


Full Circle Trilogy: Story 1: Cold Case

by alyjude_sideburns



Series: Full Circle Trilogy [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Case Fic, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim discovers something surprising while he and Blair work on a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle Trilogy: Story 1: Cold Case

 

 

  **Story 1: Cold Case by Alyjude**  


 

Jim stuck the cup under the faucet, filled it, shut off the water, grabbed the aspirin and Echinacea and carried everything back to the bedroom and his crabby bedmate.

"Sit up and take these," he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument, but was nonetheless gentle.

Blair propped himself up, eyes trying to focus on the man standing by the bed. He was about to reach out when he sneezed the kind of sneeze that tended to blow cars across parking lots.

Jim winced in sympathy as Blair blew his nose before taking the offered glass and pills.

With a raspy, "Thank you," Blair sneezed again, almost spilling the water.

"You're welcome." Jim rested his hand on Blair's forehead and shook his head. "Fever. Slight, but there. You look as though I should call the Forest Lawn Mortuary. Time for an executive decision; you're staying home, Superman."

"Whad aboud da Sabotini case?"

"Don't worry about it, Chief. If Barelli talks, I'll call Sabotini and tell him my partner has the flu and that I'll arrest him later so he'd better not leave town."

"I don'd hab da flu, Jim. Id's the end of Augusd and impossible to hab da flu in Augusd. Flu season is November through February. Dis is--"

"Let me guess: August?" He smiled tenderly. "You need to remember that you're Blair Sandburg and it's just like you to skip the flu for the entire flu season, nurse both your mother and me in January - we having the sense to *get* the flu during flu season - only to succumb in the summer. Par for the course in the Sandburg zone."

Blair sniffled and shivered as he turned red-rimmed and watery eyes on Jim. "Id's a summer cold and you and Simon hab *god* to ged ober dis whole Sandburg zone thimg you've god going. There is no such zone." He held up one hand and added, "Well, excepd *de* Sandburg zone, da one you manage to udilize in momends of mind-boggling sex."

"Now that you mention it, that is my favorite Sandburg zone. But I sincerely doubt that it's the zone of which Simon speaks when he speaks of the zone, and he speaks of it often."

Blair rolled his eyes, swallowed the next pill, took another gulp of water and scrunched up his face even as he cocked his head in worry. "Um, Jimb? Id's afder seben."

"Even sick, you're a genius."

Blair hit Jim with his pillow. "I'm nod sick and I'm dalking aboud Jake."

Realizing the meaning behind Blair's words, Jim said a worried, "Uh-oh," patted Blair on the head and, as he headed out, added, "Get back down under those covers. Now."

Blair stuck out his flu-coated tongue.

***  
Jim hurried down the hall to the other bedroom and peered cautiously inside. Hoping to see a wide-awake and pajama-clad Jake on the floor, diligently working on some project or other, he was surprised to find Jake still in bed, Jakey the wolfpup tucked into his chest.

Jim approached the bed as Jake turned sorrowful eyes toward him, held out his wolfpup and said, "pobby, jakey ib sick."

Nodding in sympathy, Jim said, "Well, he has looked better. Let me check." He placed his hand on the stuffed animal's forehead and said, "Yep, I definitely sense a fever in our wolfie. I'd better check young master Jake too."

Jim placed his hand on Jake's forehead just as the boy looked up and, with eyes bleary and sad, said, "i hab a cod in my nodes."

"I think you're right, Hoss. And you're not alone. Daddy isn't feeling so hot either, or should I say, he's feeling as hot as you."

As Jim brushed back damp curls, Jake frowned and, with only a hint of his usual self, suggested, "ib my daddy be sick doo, i shoub keep 'im compny."

"You know, welp, I couldn't agree more." Smiling, Jim lifted his son up and carried him into the bedroom.

"Hey, Chief, look what I brought you. Your very own cold medicine--Jake."

Two yellow flannel-clad arms reached out eagerly and, sitting up quickly, Blair claimed Jake as the boy leaned forward, wolfpup and all.

Settling happily against his father, he gazed up and said wisely, "we be bery sick."

Pressing his lips against the warm skin, Blair nodded, then blew a raspberry. Jake giggled and snuggled deeper. Blair waggled his eyebrows at Jim, who saluted and immediately headed to the bathroom for more medicine. He came back with Children's Tylenol and Triaminic Children's Cold Medicine. He let Blair administer the Tylenol while he went and got a spoon from the kitchen. When he returned, he poured some of the grape-flavored mixture and held it out to his son. "Okay, Hoss, down in one."

Jake shook his head stubbornly and said, "nuh-uh. icky."

"Uh-uh, good for you and tastes good too."

"nope."

Blair watched fondly as his partner made 'tasty' sounds with his lips while holding up the spoon and sniffing appreciatively. "Umm, good. Grape," he said in his most Jake-enticing voice.

"grape?"

"Grape. Very tasty, Hoss."

Jake rolled his head back, eyed his other father and, with a calculating look, pointed at Blair and said, "you firsd, daddy."

Grinning broadly and giving Blair a very superior eyebrow, Jim waved the spoon under his nose. "Down in one, Chiefy."

Giving Jim his best glare, the one that guaranteed major payback at a date to be specified later, Blair opened his mouth. Jim immediately shoved the spoon inside.

Swallowing, Blair's eyes widened in surprise. "Hey, dadth really is good."

Jake reached out and, with wiggling fingers, entreated, "gimme, gimme."

Smug smile in place, Jim poured again. Jake immediately opened his mouth and tilted back his head. The spoon was slipped in and lips closed over the implement.

"mmmmmmmmm, goood," Jake said after swallowing.

"Jake, show daddy your tongue."

Obediently, Jake twisted back again and stuck out his now purple tongue. Smiling, Blair did the same which sent Jake into a giggle fit as he pointed and said, "pwerple, pwerple, pwerple!"

Kissing the tip of Jake's nose, Blair suggested, "Maybe Poppy shoulb hab somb too?"

Bouncing, Jake nodded enthusiastically. "yes, yes, yes!"

Jim beat a hasty exit, Blair's laughter following him down the hall.

In the living room, he picked up the phone and hit the speed dial code that would connect him to Maggie, Jake's oft-time babysitter. She picked up on ring two.

_"Hello?"_

"Mags? Jim Ellison. No Jake today. He and Sandburg are down with colds."

_"Oh, no. Maybe I should stop by later? Check in on them?"_

"No, don't worry, I'm coming home on my lunch break. They'll be fine."

_"Okay, if you're sure."_

"I am, and thanks, Mags."

_"No problem. Tell Jake to get better for me, okay?"_

"Will do. See you Monday, I expect."

They disconnected and Jim headed straight for the kitchen, his idea being breakfast in bed for his two nose-blowers.

Twenty minutes later, Jim entered the bedroom bearing a tray holding scrambled eggs, orange juice (for both), coffee (for Blair), cinnamon toast, and apple slices.

"Chow time, fellas."

Blair was resting against the headboard, eyes closed, Jake spread-eagled across his chest with Jakey the wolf pup taking the premiere spot on the pillow beside them. At Jim's voice, Blair opened his eyes and brought a finger to his lips. Jim nodded in understanding and, balancing the tray carefully, sat down on the other side of the bed.

"Hungry?" he whispered.

"Actually, yeah."

"That's a good sign, dig in."

"Share?"

"Funny you should ask, just happened to bring an extra fork."

They started eating, both wisely ignoring the cinnamon toast. Turned out to be a good decision when small fingers crept over the edge of the tray and snagged a piece.

"Ah, our sleeping sniffler awakes," Jim noted with satisfaction.

Jake, eyes still closed, grinned and nodded even as he brought the sweet and spicy toast to his mouth and opened wide. He chomped down, smacked his lips, then placed the edge of the toast next to Jakey's lips. "jakey says, umm, good."

"Jakey is one smart wolf who says Jake should try some eggs and an apple slice," Jim observed with a wink at his bedmate.

Eager fingers slipped searchingly around on the tray until, fearing a mess, Jim took Jake's hand and placed an apple slice into his palm. Jake munched contentedly and finally sat up to drink some juice. The sparkle in his eyes might be slightly dampened by the cold, but it was still there. As Blair drank his coffee, Jake pronounced, "daddy *must* stay home wib me."

"I couldn't agree more," Jim said with a grin. "And at noon, I'll bring home lunch, okay?"

"bery good."

"Okay, you two eat while I get dressed. Some of us *do* have to go to work, you know."

Jake and Blair clucked sympathetically, then burst into laughter. Jim grabbed his clothes, stuck out his tongue and walked into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

***

"No, don't kiss me," Blair said as he turned his head away. "Are you nuts? You want this cold too?"

"Chief, if I'm going to catch it, I'm going to catch it. Kissing you won't make much difference. We share bodily fluids on a regular basis."

"Good point," Blair said, the nasal quality almost gone, thanks to the decongestant.

Jim snaked a hand around Blair's neck and pulled him close. Their lips were almost touching when--

"ACHOO!"

Stepping back, face scrunched up, Jim said, "Aw, Sandburg, jeez."

Grinning, Blair said, "Sorry, man."

***

The television was making strange sounds. Blair looked up from the book he was trying to read and frowned. He was reaching for the remote when Jake, curled up in the crook of Blair's arm, said, "ib's okay, ib's just the toons."

"So the set isn't dying?"

"nope."

"Good to know." Blair pulled the afghan up higher around Jake and asked, "You warm enough?"

"yup."

"Thirsty?"

"nope."

Jake's eyes never left the set as some oddly dressed teenagers tumbled across the screen while lightning crackled around them. Mesmerized, Blair watched. Half an hour later the teens had successfully bested the bad guy, someone named Biafa, and were celebrating in a castle that floated above the ground.

"Yes, well. That was - interesting."

"biafa should know bedder, he *always* loses." Jake sat up, rubbed his eyes and said sorrowfully, "all stuffted up again, daddy."

"Starting to feel a little stuffy myself, buddy. Time for more medicine and juice. And maybe one of your grandmother's bestest cold remedies."

"gammy's bestest cold - rem...remdee?"

"Yep. Remember the hot water, lemon and honey?" At Jake's happy nod, he said, "Come on, let's head into the kitchen, welp."

Jake nodded and slid off the couch to follow his father. Even though the calendar proclaimed summer, the weather had decided that it should throw a cold, foggy day Cascade's way. As a result, Blair and Jake were in matching grey sweats, white tube socks on their feet. As they entered the kitchen, Blair picked Jake up and set him on the counter. Their medicines were on the sink where Jim had thoughtfully left them.

Blair administered the Triaminic and Jake licked the spoon happily, but as he swallowed, he scrunched up his face as his sore throat protested slightly.

"You know, maybe what we both need instead of lemon water and honey is--"

Eyes wide, Jake said eagerly, "whad, daddy, whad?"

"Ice cream. Thad's whad."

Jake considered that seriously, then nodded approvingly. "yep, thad would work."

"Juice bar?"

"yummy!"

Blair took out two bars, lemon for him, strawberry-banana for Jake, unwrapped them and handed Jake his red one. Licking happily, the two remained in place, enjoying the cooling smoothness of the ice cream. With juice dribbling down his chin, Jake said thoughtfully, "i thimk we should - color now."

Wiping up the sweet, sticky liquid, Blair nodded. "Yep, definitely. Juice bar, then coloring. Only way to make a cold go away."

"yup."

***

"So they're both sick?"

"'Fraid so, Simon."

"Look, I'll send Joel and Conner out to try Barelli again, so go home. Take care of them."

"Uh, Simon? Sandburg's a big boy now. He can take care of himself and Jake."

"I realize that, but still--you should go."

Jim jumped up and said, "Okay."

Somewhat stunned, Simon blinked a few times and said, "You didn't put up much of a fight."

"Oh? Well-- uh, Simon, I really, really shouldn't leave. So much to do, we've got our vacation coming up and Sandburg--um, Simon? Is that fight enough?"

"Why do I think I've just been played for a sucker?"

"Because I've been around Sandburg too long?"

Pointing his finger at him, Simon said, "Got it in one. Now get the hell out of here, but damn it, I expect you both in on Monday." As an afterthought, he added, "Unless Jake is still sick, of course."

Chuckling, Jim headed out a full two hours ahead of plan. He didn't feel the least bit guilty; he'd been covering for family men for years.

***

 

"um, blue!"

"I agree, blue id is."

His hand still hovering over the stack of crayons, Blair looked at his choices, now trying to decide *which* blue. Jake nudged the darkest of Blair's choices surreptitiously forward. Blair lifted it up and examined it. "Now how did this happen? Did you see thad, Jake?"

"mi-rakle."

"Indubitably."

Blair colored in the sleek race car with the midnight blue crayon as Jake nudged the silver crayon toward his father. "Why look-ee here, somehow da silber crayon made its way to me."

"would look good on da stripey."

"Um, yes. Another mi-rakle."

Jake, on his stomach next to his father, coloring books spread out between them, immediately sat up and held out his arms, then sneezed. "oobs."

"Bless you." Blair held a tissue to Jake's nose and said, "Blow."

Jake scrunched up his face and blew, his head wiggling as he tried to move the tissue. Smiling, Blair let him take it as he stood up and began to gather the books  
and crayons. When he was done, everything having been stacked neatly on the coffee table, he turned and found Jake sitting patiently, arms still raised. With an amused expression on his face, he leaned down, picked him up and headed for the bedroom.

When he started to enter Jake's room, the boy shook his head. "no, no, we be bedder togeder."

"Ah, yes. Misery lobes company."

Jake clucked and corrected, "no. daby lobes jake."

Blair kissed a soft cheek and asked, "How much?"

Jake unwrapped his arms from around Blair's neck and spread them as wide as he could as he said, "thiiiiiiiis muuuuuuuuch."

"Ride on, Hoss."

***

Jim got indoors seconds ahead of the summer storm that had been threatening all day. He slipped out of his jacket, hung it in the closet and cocked his head in concentration.

Ah, bedroom.

Both of them.

And - asleep.

He smiled, noted the crayon boxes and coloring books on the table, the empty juice glasses, the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, and decided that unlike his childhood years, staying home sick now could be fun.

When he and Steven were growing up, if they were too ill to attend school, then they stayed upstairs, in bed. No television, books or games. Jim gave a short shake of his head as he walked down the hall toward his and Blair's bedroom. With his father's philosophy regarding illnesses, comfort had been in short supply for him and Steven, but stepping into the bedroom, he quickly reminded himself that the past was just that: in the past.

As he got his first look at his "sickies", he stopped dead and found himself trying to catch his breath, the sight was so incredible.

Blair was sound asleep on his side, hair covering all but a glimpse of one cheek. His right arm was dangling over the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the floor.

And Jake… God, Jake.

Smiling, Jim moved closer.

In what was an obvious effort to get closer to his daddy, Jake had 'arranged' himself at the head of the bed, but lengthwise across the pillows so that he could nestle his head against the back of Blair's neck. He'd wrapped the fingers of his right hand around a chunk of curls and was holding onto Blair's hair the way he usually held Jakey.

His expression tender, Jim moved to Bair's side, brushed the hair from his face and rested his fingertips on Blair's forehead. Good, no fever, thank God. He then lay the back of his hand against Jake's soft cheek and found the same cool skin. Jake's breathing was easier than Blair's, but both appeared to be on the mend. Must have been all the coloring books.

Grinning, he walked back into the living room and made quick work of cleaning up. He was about to make some soup for lunch when the phone rang.

"Ellison."

_"Jim, Taggart. We just got a call from Barelli and he's willing to talk, but only to Sandburg."_

"Shit. He's gonna have to wait until Monday, Joel. Sandburg's down with the flu."

_"Jim, this guy is gonna rabbit on us. I can feel it. We may not have until Monday."_

Jim squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Joel was right. And Sandburg would kill him if he kept him from meeting Barelli. He sighed and said, "Okay, set it up for three this afternoon."

The relief at the other end of the phone was almost palpable.

_"You got it, Jim. Any suggestions on where?"_

"It needs to be some place secluded and safe—how 'bout the Botanical Gardens?"

_"Yeah, that should work. The back trails?"_

"Yep. The rain forest exhibit."

_"Done deal, Jim. Three o'clock, Botanical Gardens, the rain forest trails. I'll tell him you'll find him."_

"We'll be there."

Jim put the receiver back in its cradle and, for a few moments, stared at the phone. He couldn't deny that this was the break in the Sabotini killing that they'd been hoping for, but it couldn't have come at a worse time.

Carl Sabotini was a wealthy and well-known Cascade business man said to have his fingers in several less than legal businesses. Four days earlier, his soon-to-be-ex-wife, Michelina, had been found shot to death in her apartment. Word on the street was that Carl Sabotini had pulled the trigger himself. A break in the case, in the form of information from Jim's most reliable snitch, Sneaks, said that Morgan Barelli, Sabotini's tax lawyer, had been present when the businessman had murdered his wife and was itching to talk.

He and Sandburg had interviewed the man two days ago with Jim's senses telling him that Barelli knew more than he was actually giving them. He'd started to come down hard on the man and, as planned, Sandburg pulled the "good cop" ploy to Jim's primeval one. Barelli, while somewhat soothed by Blair, had still refused to say more but both detectives felt it would only be a matter of time.

Wouldn't you know that the man would pick now to want to spill his guts.

Thinking about the whole 'good cop-bad cop' routine, Jim had to admit that he and Sandburg took the tactic to a whole new level, a level never dreamed of by ordinary detectives. Unfortunately, it also gave way to times like this one, times when the criminal or witness in question would talk only to the 'good' cop, which meant Sandburg.

Who had the flu.

Jim picked up the phone and punched in Maggie's number. When she answered, he started to explain the problem but Maggie interrupted to tell him she'd be there before he could put the phone down.

Now all he had to do was wake up Sleeping Beauty Sandburg.

Jim walked quietly back to their bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed and tweaked a strand of hair that had fallen back over the sleeping man's face. "Hey, gorgeous, wake up."

"Nuh-uh. few more minutes, mom--"

"Very funny, Sandburg. Now open those beautiful blues and smile for me."

One bleary eye opened and Sandburg grimaced.

"If that's the best smile you can give me, our partnership is over."

Blair snorted and started to turn over, but Jim stopped him. "Whoa, not so fast unless you want to squish our son and lose a chunk of hair. Give me a chance to disengage the Jakemeister."

Jim carefully and lovingly pried the small fingers loose, then just as carefully brought Jake down and tucked him under the covers. The boy never so much as twitched.

Blair sat up and ran a hand over his face, then pushed unruly hair back and away. "Wow. What time is it?"

"Earlier than I planned to be here. Simon forced me to come home."

Absentmindedly, Blair patted Jim's cheek as he commiserated. "Poor boy. And you woke me up, why?"

"Hate to do this to you, but you and I have to meet Barelli at the Botanical Gardens at three."

"He's gonna talk?"

"Looks like."

"Something aboud him doesn' ring true, Jim."

"Yeah, well, now's your chance to test his chimes. You up for it?"

In answer, Blair sneezed.

"Yes, I can see that you are."

***

"bud… bud… we're sick!"

Jim smiled patiently as he replied, "Well, we won't be gone long, Jake, and Maggie here will take care of you until we return."

"bud we're **sick** , pobby!"

Blair saved the day by entering the living room at that moment. He was tucking his shirt into his jeans and looked like Hell warmed over, but hearing Jake’s whine, he immediately dropped down on one knee beside the boy.

"Hoss, we won'd be gone long, okay? When we get home, we'll go back to being sick in peace. But right now, Jim and I hab to go. Now, once we're gone, I want you to snuggle up wid Maggie, and that's an order."

Lower lip sticking out, Jake asked, "do i hab to?"

"Absolutely."

Eyes downcast, he mumbled, "i could do that."

"Good. Of course, da snuggling wouldn't be complete without hot chocolate. Why don't we go into the kitchen and see how Mags is doing?"

Without looking up, Jake simply raised his arms. Grinning, Blair picked him up.

***

They were early and, thanks to the weather, the parking lot was nearly empty. Rain and botanical gardens – even if most of the exhibits were indoors -- weren't a good mix. After pulling his keys from the ignition, Jim glanced worriedly over at his partner, who was scrunched down in his seat, the collar of his rain jacket pulled up around his face.

"You okay?"

"Yep. And it's just a cold, Jim. You managed to protect a witness, get thrown out the window of a train and bring down the bad guys with a cold. I think I can handle an interview, you know? Besides, I took some Dayquil and, as you can tell, the congestion is fading fast. I actually sound human."

"You have the flu, Sandburg, and now you're running a fever."

"Do not. Am not."

"Do too. Are too."

"Do not. Am not."

"Do too. Are too."

"Dick."

"You love my dick."

"True."

"Best dick around."

"Well, second best dick in our bed anyway."

" _Only_ dick in your bed, Sandburg."

"Oh, yeah, sure, of course – when you're _alone_."

"Sandburg--" Jim said, warning in his voice.

"Anything unusual around?"

Grudgingly, Jim shook his head.

"We should go inside then."

Jim grunted and opened his door, letting in a blast of cold Cascade air. Blair sneezed.

***

Jim forked over the entrance fee for both of them and, tickets in hand, they entered.

The Cascade Botanical Gardens covered five miles of paths that wound through the acreage, taking the intrepid hiker through every plant environment known to man. A person could walk through the Sahara Desert one minute and the lush tropical setting of the Caribbean next. The Rain Forest exhibit was the furthest in and took ten minutes walking and Sandburg's sneezing to reach.

"That over-the-counter stuff doesn't seem to be working, Chief."

"Sure it is. The congestion is gone, can't you tell?"

Blair ended his question with another sneeze.

"Oh, yeah, Chief, definitely working."

"Oh, shut up."

Continuing their trek through the gardens, Blair found that the manmade forest mists tickled his nose, thus inciting a sneezing frenzy. Handkerchief in hand, he managed to ask, "Is he here?"

"One heartbeat - a few yards ahead."

"But is it him?"

"Judging by the overwhelming scent of Aqua Brava, yeah, I'd say so."

"Okay then. Why don't you stay here and I'll go ahead and see what he has to say, all right?"

"Oh, sure, why _don't_ I stay here."

Jim's sarcasm was not lost on Sandburg. "It's not like you can't hear us, Jim. You know as well as I that if he sees you, he might clam up."

"Sandburg, do I need to give you the short version of what 'back-up' means, or the long?"

"Staying here does not erode the parameters of being my back-up."

"Does too."

"Does not."

Blair put his finger on Jim's chest and said, "Stay put, Ellison. I'll yell if I need you."

Jim cocked his head. "You've been waiting a long time to say that, haven't you?"

Smug smile in place, Sandburg nodded and headed toward Barelli's location. As soon as Blair was out of normal sight, Jim moved forward.

"Jim, I _said_ stay put."

Jim stopped.

"Atta boy."

Jim rolled his eyes and muttered, "Curses, foiled again."

 

***

Barelli stood with his back to Sandburg, his nervousness evident in the way he bounced from foot to foot.

"Morgan?"

The man whirled around, sighing in relief when he realized that the man calling his name was the officer he was expecting.

"Detective."

Blair glanced around and spotted a bench a few feet away. With a nod of his head, he indicated that they should sit. Barelli followed him and they both sank down onto the marble bench.

"So, I take it you have additional information for us, Mister Barelli?"

"I shouldn't be doing this, you know that, right?"

"I told you we'll do our best to protect you. You were there, weren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on his thigh, "I was. But I swear to you, I had no idea what he was going to do. I don't think he knew what he was going to do. But when he found out that she was the one stealing from him, he went crazy. I couldn't stop him, no one could have."

It made sense, Blair thought. Except -- he'd spent hours going over Sabotini's finances and tracking his various holdings and there was no way that Michelina Sabotini could have stolen from her husband. At least--not without help. Inside help. Major inside help.

During his investigation, Blair hadn't just learned about Sabotini's money, he'd also studied the man himself and, while the man's business dealings weren't always out in the sunshine, nothing pointed to outright illegal dealings let alone any violence. In interviewing business associates, friends, and family, Sabotini came off as an almost modern day Robin Hood. And as for the murder of his wife, he'd had an airtight alibi, namely the very visible attendance at a benefit for the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Studying the man opposite, Blair's fertile brain began to envision a different scenario from the one Morgan was trying to sell. One that featured the innocuous Barelli as star and key player.

Schooling his face and utilizing a deceptively calm tone, Blair asked, "So you witnessed Sabotini kill his wife and you'll testify to that fact?"

Barelli nodded. His eyes shifted left and Blair knew a lie was coming, which meant that Jim would know as well.

"It was -- horrible, Detective. They were screaming and yelling at each other, and I tried to intervene, but Carl pushed me away and took out his gun--"

"He carries?"

"I assume so, or at least he did that night. We were alone, none of his usual entourage--"

"After all, he was only visiting his wife, right?"

"Exactly."

"So the argument escalated…." Blair encouraged.

"Yes, and he shot her. Just like that."

The seconds ticked by as Sandburg appeared to be considering Barelli's words. It didn't skip Blair's notice that his 'witness' now seemed quite relaxed. Which made it a good time to ask a very important question. "Who helped her, Morgan?"

Surprised, Barelli lifted his head and, frowning, asked, "What? What do you mean?"

"Who helped her steal from him?" Blair asked, his voice deceptively easy.

"I--no one, I assume."

Blair decided it was time to continue the interview under more formal conditions. He rose to his feet. "Mr. Barelli, would you come to the station now? We need to get your statement and set up the necessary protection."

"I suppose that would be best. You _can_ protect me, right?"

"Of course."

***

 

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Jim was in agreement with both Blair's assessment of the situation and his decision to move the interview. When they arrived at the station, they led Barelli to an interrogation room and, under the guise of getting him coffee, left him alone.

Heading for Simon's office, Jim asked, "How do you want to play this?"

"Besides carefully?"

"Yeah, besides that, and you're looking icky again."

"Gee, thanks, Jim. Icky? New turn of the century medical jargon?"

"Yep. Means you'll be dropping like a fly in about, oh," he checked his watch, "thirty minutes, give or take."

Blair pretended to do some quick calculations in his brain, then said, "So by my reckoning, we'd better break this guy in fifteen. That'll give you ten minutes to get me home."

"I have one twenty-two. Let's synchronize our watches--"

"Check. One twenty-two. We're a go."

They brought Simon up to speed and by one thirty, Blair and Jim were back in the interrogation room, Simon and Joel watching from the two-way mirror.

***

Blair sat opposite Barelli while Jim lounged against the door. He managed to look nicely threatening.

"Does he have to be here?" Barelli said, indicating Jim.

"I'm afraid so, Morgan. Just ignore him, I often do."

"So what happens now?"

"Well, we need to clarify a few points, get your statement down, the usual."

"Oh, well, yes."

"For instance, the gun. Why would he leave his own gun at the scene? " Blair asked as if surprised. Then he went on, almost as if puzzling it out for himself. "Unless of course," he looked at Barelli, "it was Mrs. Sabotini's gun?"

"No, no, it was his. He had it. He pulled it."

"Yes, well, we only have your word for that, don't we? The gun wasn't registered and when you add that to the fact that the rumor on the street says Sabotini never carries…."

He let his words trail off and waited. He didn't have long to wait.

"Look, I don't know why he left it and why the fuck does it matter?"

"All right. Let's go back to who might have helped Mrs. Sabotini steal from her husband--"

"Why do you keep saying that? Why did anyone have to help her?"

"Mr. Barelli, I'm surprised that as his tax lawyer, you would ask that. Sabotini's holdings are quite extensive, are they not? He has accountants from here to New York whose only job is to protect him. Best I can figure, it would take, well, quite frankly, it would take someone like--you, to embezzle successfully."

Jim focused his senses and found what he was looking for -- fear. He could smell it, hear it in the sudden spike of the man's heart and see it in the beads of sweat popping up on Barelli's upper lip.

In a conspiratorial manner, Blair leaned forward and said, "Come on, Mr. Barelli, you were the one who helped her, weren't you? It was the two of you, working together? You had the inside knowledge, and Mrs. Sabotini had… what, the codes?"

At the word "codes", Barelli's head shot up and Jim sensed that the man was ready to bolt. Moving quickly, he stepped to Barelli's side, placed one hand on the man's shoulder and gripped tightly.

Time for the bad cop.

Leaning down, his lips mere centimeters from Barelli's ear, Jim hissed out, "You know, all we have to do is let you go--then get the word out on the streets that you turned on your boss. Why don't you make it easy on yourself and give us the truth."

His face white and pinched, Barelli nevertheless found some much needed gumption. "What--what's going on here? I come to you, I'm risking my life and--you're what? Trying to implicate me?"

Blair stood, his chair skittering back as he said calmly, "I think maybe a call to your lawyer is in order, Mr. Barelli."

"I don't need a lawyer, I didn't do anything."

"Mr. Barelli," Blair said patiently, "you have now admitted that you were there in Mrs. Sabotini's apartment. You _definitely_ need to call your lawyer."

"But I saw Sabotini do it. I can place him at the scene. He'll have to admit to the theft of his money, and that he'd discovered his wife was the culprit."

Jim spoke again, his voice low and easy. "Well, that would appear to be your story, all right. However, with a little work, I think we'll be able to trace the theft," he paused dramatically before adding, "…right back to you."

With a stubborn lift of his chin, Barelli said stiffly, "I think I'd better call my lawyer. And detectives, you can be prepared for one hell of a lawsuit."

"Suit yourself, Mr. Barelli. I'll have an officer bring in a phone," Blair offered politely, his pun, which had been intended, going right over Barelli's head.

As he and Jim started out the door, Jim threw out his last salvo. "Mr. Barelli, be grateful that the law allows us to hold you for up to forty-eight hours before booking you. You'll be much safer in here with us…."

With that, he shut the door on the man.

***

"So now what?"

"So now I've got ten minutes to get you home before you crash, that's what."

"Jim, I'm serious. He did it, he killed her."

"Yep. No doubt. Which makes him one foolish man."

They stood in the hall outside the interrogation room, Blair with his back to the wall, Jim in front of him. Before Blair could respond, Simon and Joel joined them.

"Well, he didn't exactly crack, did he, gentlemen?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out to his side, palms up. "Hey, we've got him scared, Simon. And he did kill her."

Intelligent brown eyes moved from one detective to the other. He took in Blair's pallor and congested breathing and said quietly, "You look like hell, Sandburg. Go home. I'll keep Conner on it, see if she can track the man's handiwork."

Pushing himself away from the wall, Blair shook his head. "No sir, I'm pretty sure I can--"

"That was an order, Sandburg," he said gently as he turned to Jim and commanded, "Get him home."

"Yes, sir."

Jim took Sandburg's arm and started to lead him away, but Blair continued to talk, to insist that he was fine, that he could do it, could get what they needed. No one listened.

As the two men disappeared through the double doors leading to the elevator, Joel asked, "Do we have enough to hold Barelli?"

"Sure we do, he's in protective custody, Joel. He sought us out, remem--"

He got no further as Blair, having escaped from his partner, burst back through the double doors, Jim hard on his heels.

"Simon, I've got it! Bring in Sabotini!"

"Excuse me, Sandburg?"

Blair skidded to a stop in front of the taller man, a disgusted Jim braking behind him.

"Bring in Sabotini, sir. Get it?"

"Yes, I get it. Bring in Sabotini. Three words, easy as pie. Now--why?"

"I think he'd be very helpful if the Cascade Police Department enlisted his aid in solving the murder of his wife. Sir," Blair added as an afterthought.

Simon narrowed his eyes, then took off his glasses, wiped them down, put them back on--nope, he still didn't get it or half of his best team. "Sandburg, I believe you're running a fever."

"Simon, bring him in, let me talk to him and, while I'm talking, someone strolls by with … Barelli…."

Blair let his voice trail off as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, his head doing a little, "get it yet?" dance.

The light dawned and Simon turned to Joel, who immediately held up one hand to say, "I'm on it, Simon. I'll have him here within the hour."

Simon looked over Sandburg's head at Ellison and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Sorry, Jim. Looks like you two are stuck here a bit longer. Get him some medicine, will you?"

Jim took Blair's arm and pulled him away. "Yes, sir, will do, sir."

Just as Jim pushed Blair through the doors, Simon yelled, "And don't let him take any of those native concoctions of his!"

***

"Take it, Sandburg."

Blair shut his mouth tight and shook his head.

"Sandburg, you've been around Jake too long. Now open up and swallow."

Blair crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his chin.

"Sandburg, we're in the men's bathroom and any minute someone could come in here and they're gonna see me, tiny plastic cup in hand, and you refusing to take your medicine and their worse fears will be confirmed."

Blair finally opened his mouth and grinning, said, "No, Jim, they'd have to see us doing it in order to confirm their worse fears."

"You take this and we'll give them that opportunity, okay? Now swallow."

"You sweet talker, you. Give me that."

Jim handed him the cup and he downed it in one, his face mirroring the abhorrent taste.

"That's a good boy. For that, you get this."

Blair leaned forward even as, with his peripheral vision, he checked the restroom door. Jim smiled slyly, bent down, and just before they were close enough to kiss--he put both his hands on either side of Blair's head and planted one … on his forehead. He patted Blair's cheek and said, "Now, don't you feel better, babeee?"

"Putz."

*****

Blair watched with interest as Jim, Joel and Simon worked out the logistics of what they were about to try. Joel was nodding as Jim talked and Simon pretended to puff on his signature unlit cigar. Finally, Simon patted Jim on the back and walked away, a very satisfied expression on his face. Jim headed toward his desk and Blair.  
  
"Everything set?"  
  
"Yep. Sabotini's been called and agreed to come in. We'll interview him in the conference room with the door open. Joel will very cleverly arrange to have Barelli transferred, and they'll just happen to pass us. Between that and what you get from Sabotini, we may close this case today."  
  
"We are devious."  
  
"No, we're cops."  
  
***  
  
Jim put out his hand and Carl Sabotini took it. As they shook, Jim introduced himself, then indicating a chair, said, "I'm very glad you were able to spare us some time this afternoon. Please, have a seat."  
  
Sabotini took the offered chair, opened his coat and settled back. He assessed the two men sitting opposite, his sparkling blue eyes full of humor and a touch of suspicion, as he said, "Thank you, Detective. I'm grateful to have been given the chance to come in on my own. I've been rather expecting a knock on my door for the last couple of days."  
  
"The husband is usually the prime suspect in a case like this," Jim said with a smile.  
  
"Exactly. So, since I'm clearly not under arrest, what can I do for you?"  
  
In watching the man, Jim realized he was looking at an enigma. Because he'd amassed his fortune in such a relatively short time, rumors had him tied to the mob but there'd never been any proof. Sitting across from them now, he looked like a very successful -- and legal -- businessman.  
  
In spite of the Armani suit, Lords and Taylor cashmere coat, and a very expensive Mondavi watch, Jim found himself liking the man. Maybe it was the stylish brown hair (graying at the temples) cut to the curl and the genuine and easy smile playing around the full lips, but whatever it was – Jim was drawn to him.  
  
Leaning forward, Jim clasped his hands on the table and, with his own charming smile in place, said, "Mr. Sabotini, I realize that you've already been interviewed regarding your wife, but we're hoping you've thought of something new?"  
  
"Detective, even though Michelina and I were no longer living together, please believe me when I say that she truly didn't have an enemy in the world."  
  
Blair checked his watch and decided it was time to drop their load. Choosing the straightforward approach, he said bluntly, "Mr. Sabotini, we've reason to believe that your wife was stealing from you."  
  
Carl Sabotini turned his attention from Ellison to Blair, a frown marring his handsome features. After a moment, he said, "Michelina wouldn't know how. I'm sorry, Detective?"  
  
"Sandburg, Detective Sandburg."  
  
Something flickered deep within the surprised blue eyes but disappeared so quickly, Jim wondered if he'd actually seen it. He focused on the man as he responded further to Blair.  
  
"Detective--Sandburg. As I said, she wouldn't know how to steal from me."  
  
"You do have a computer at home, correct?"  
  
"Of course. I pride myself on the fact that I'm a man who's definitely entered the twenty-first century."  
  
"Would it have been possible for her to have--"  
  
"Detective, please. Michelina simply does--didn't--have the," he paused, searching for the word. He finally said, "She was computer illiterate, Detective."  
  
"She wouldn't have to be computer savvy, Mr. Sabotini, all she'd need was help. Inside help. And passwords?"  
  
For the first time since his arrival, Sabotini broke eye contact. The dark red flush starting just above his collar told both detectives that Blair had scored. After a few moments, Sabotini brought his gaze back to Sandburg and, clearly embarrassed, said, "Five years ago I met a woman I thought to be beautiful, shy and innocent. I fell hard and wanted to share everything with her. Unfortunately, the ensuing years revealed the innocence to be calculated. For Michelina, the world existed solely to provide her pleasure, Detective. Does that make sense?"  
  
"Yes," Blair answered sympathetically. Then, voice gentle, he asked, "I take it she did have the necessary passwords?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
At that moment, Jim caught a glimpse of Joel and Barelli as they walked toward the elevator. In a moment, they would be passing the open door. Jim focused and had to hide his triumphant smile as Barelli glanced in their direction and spotted Sabotini. Jim registered the spiking heartbeat and the sudden pallor. He could have counted each individual bead of sweat if he'd been so inclined.  
  
They walked on and Jim returned his attention to his partner and their guest.  
  
"--this means that I am a suspect, then?"  
  
"At this stage, everyone is a suspect, Mr. Sabotini."  
  
"Including the person who would have had to help Michelina?"  
  
Smiling at the man's quick grasp of the situation, Blair said, "It's safe to say that the person who helped your wife would be even higher on our list."  
  
"So it would behoove me to delve into my finances and discover what I can?"  
  
"That would be a very …helpful, sir."  
  
A genuine smile lit up the man's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Please, it's Carl. And should I discover that I have been the victim of, what – this embezzlement?"  
  
At Blair's nod, Sabotini went on, his smile growing even broader. "I would also be giving you a prime motive for my having killed her, which at the moment, you don't have. Isn't that correct?"  
  
"Well, yes, sir--"  
  
"Please, Detective Sandburg, it's Carl."  
  
Blair's own smile was in evidence as he answered, "Yes, you would be providing us with a motive, but if it helps, I don't think you killed her--Carl."  
  
Watching the almost surreal exchange between Sabotini and Sandburg, Jim realized that he might as well not be in the room. He felt a twinge of something akin to jealousy, which was ridiculous. He was tumbled back to earth by the sound of chairs scraping back. He shook himself and found that Blair and Sabotini were now standing, and Blair, hand outstretched, was saying, "Thank you for coming in, Mr…Carl… we know how busy you are. You will check though? And get back to us perhaps later today?"  
  
Sabotini threw back his head and laughed, a sound that was lively and not unlike quicksilver. It was also, to Jim, somehow—familiar and he found himself just naturally smiling in response.  
  
"Oh, Detective," Sabotini said when his laughter had finally died down. "I sincerely doubt that I or anyone could investigate my holdings in one afternoon. I'm afraid such an endeavor will take quite a bit more than a day."  
  
There was no censure in his comment, no attempt to make Blair seem the fool. The man was too open for that, his delight too obvious to be anything more than sharing the simple truth. Blair shook his head, a wry grin on his face. "Of course. Perhaps, well, to be honest, we have quite a few experts in Major Crime, maybe we can help?"  
  
The laughter came again, this time joined by Blair's. When he'd sufficiently calmed, Sabotini said, "Oh, you're good, Detective, but I think I'll pass on your generous offer. Although I suspect you could give me no choice?"  
  
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
Sabotini held out his hand – and as Blair took it - Jim felt that twinge again.  
  
***  
  
"Well, what did you think?" Blair asked as they sat back down.  
  
"About?"  
  
A pencil thudded against his chest and Jim grinned. "Hey, I have several choices on what to think about, give me some help here. What do I think about Sabotini? What do I think about the chances of his being a murderer? What do I think about our little set-up with Barelli?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The pencil winged its way back across the space between their desks to hit Sandburg's arm, who ignored it and repeated his question. "Well? What do you think?"  
  
"I think--Sabotini is an interesting man. I think Barelli is going down and I think we need to get home, get you in bed and check on Jake. I also think Oswald wasn't working alone and that the state of Florida should be ashamed of itself."  
  
Blair snorted, sneezed twice, then picked up the phone and dialed home. As it rang on the other end, he tossed back, "Florida, Jim? Like every state doesn't lose whole boxes of votes?"  
  
 _"'lo?"_  
  
"Jake? How ya doing, my man?"  
  
 _"i'd do bedder if you and pobby were home wid me."_  
  
"Well, if that's all that it takes to make you better, get ready to be better. We'll be leaving soon, okay?"  
  
 _"promuse?"_  
  
"Promise. Have you been taking your medicine? Drinking lots of fluids?"  
  
 _"yup. and more fruitcicles. umm goob."_  
  
"I hope you left one for me? I'm gonna need it when I get home."  
  
 _"plenny, daddy. you want lemon or orange?"_  
  
"Um, 'nother lemon."  
  
 _"'kay. pobby can have the orangy one"_  
  
"Absolutely. Would you put Mags on now?"  
  
 _"do i hab do?"_  
  
"Yup."  
  
 _"'kay. MAGS!"_  
  
Laughing, Blair held the phone from his ear as Jim shook his head.  
  
 _"Blair? You okay?"_  
  
"Fine, Mags. We'll be leaving shortly. Just thought I'd check in, see how he's doing."  
  
 _"He's a little cranky, but otherwise, fine."_  
  
"Hey, I'm a little cranky, I can relate. Anything we can bring you?"  
  
 _"No, honey, just get home and take care of yourself and Jake."_  
  
"We can do that. See you soon."  
  
 _"You'd better say good-bye to you-know-who."_  
  
Blair could hear Jake in the background and, judging by the thumping sound, their son was bouncing up and down in an effort to reach the phone. A moment later--  
  
 _"daddy?"_  
  
"No, it's the evil Blairgorgon and he will soon be on a tickle mission."  
  
 _"i wand voldemard!"_  
  
"Hang on, Voldemort on his way."  
  
Blair handed over the phone and Jim, Voldemort accent in place, said, "Ah, my little Jakeman! I too shall soon be on a tickle mission. Be prepared, my young prince."  
  
The only sound emanating from the phone were giggles.  
  
Oh, yeah, Jake was scared.  
  
***  
  
"Well, gentlemen, I can honestly say that it worked--and it didn't. Barelli is in interrogation two confessing to the theft, but not the murder, and he's changed his story about how the killing took place as well."  
  
Disgusted, Blair dropped into his usual chair in Simon's office. After two sneezes, followed by two "bless yous", he said, "I don't believe this, Simon. We have seriously underestimated this guy."  
  
"Or we've underestimated Sabotini," Joel added.  
  
Jim, perched on the edge of Simon's desk, shook his head at that. "No, Joel. Every instinct I have says that Sabotini is innocent."  
  
"Hell, Joel, he didn't even know about the theft," Blair explained. "The man was clearly surprised at the very idea of it, let alone that his wife could have been responsible."  
  
Shrugging, Joel said, "Hey, I believe you. But where does that leave us now?"  
  
"Simon, just how did Barelli's story change?" Jim asked, his fingers fiddling with the leather pen and pencil holder on Simon's desk.  
  
Slipping the container away from busy fingers, Simon answered. "He says that he was with Mrs. Sabotini, although he now claims he was in the bathroom when Sabotini showed up." Simon rolled his eyes, then went on. "He says the man was angry and yelling that he'd discovered the theft. According to Barelli, it all went downhill from there and Mrs. Sabotini ended up dead."  
  
Surreptitiously stealing the holder back, Jim gave a loud huff and said, "Oh, right. So while he stayed safely tucked away in the bathroom, Sabotini shot and killed his wife, dropped the gun and skedaddled back to a very high profile party. And all without being seen by the man at the front desk, or being missed at the party to begin with. Riight."  
  
The pen holder was confiscated and stuffed into a drawer. "Jim, the man at the desk never saw anyone, Barelli included."  
  
"So we need to put him with the gun. It's our only chance of nailing him."  
  
"My thoughts exactly. Which is why Joel and Conner will be working on that while you take your wheezing and highly contagious partner the heck out of my office. Capice?"  
  
"Right."  
  
As Jim, Blair and Joel exited, Simon threw out one last command. "We have forty-eight hours before we have to make Barelli's confession official and bring in Sabotini."  
  
***  
  
"Gee, I thought I was doing much better."  
  
"Chief, you're sicker than a dog."  
  
"Hey, the DayQuil is still working."  
  
"Yeah? So your nose is no longer stuffed up, big deal. Trust me when I say that your lungs are. Now, how 'bout I stop along the way and pick up dinner?"  
  
Blair grimaced and gave a little shudder. "Ugh."  
  
"Well said. So, pizza for me and Jake, and soup for you. And no arguing."  
  
"Who's arguing?"  
  
Jim stopped at Dino's, ordered a large pizza, half with everything and half plain cheese, plus a container of their famous Minestrone. Juggling the goodies, he got to the truck expecting help, but what he found was a dead-to-the-world Sandburg. Placing the food between them, he checked for fever and, satisfied at the cool skin, headed home.  
  
***  
  
Getting food and a semi-somnolent Sandburg inside turned out to be no mean feat, but Jim managed. Of course, things would have been better if they hadn't been bombarded by a stuffed-up four-year-old the minute they set foot inside. Noting that Jake had made a rather laudable leap for his father's back and was now clinging and giggling, Maggie said apologetically, "Sorry, Jim, Blair. He got away from me."  
  
Jim put the food on the dining room table and, laughing, turned to their friend. "Hey, from what I can see, Blair has no problem with having a Jake stuck to him. Do you, Chief?"  
  
Blair was stumbling around, arms reaching behind him, trying to find the "stuckee" while Jake squealed with laughter. At Jim's question, he stopped long enough to say, half out of breath, "Do I have a Jake stuck to me?"  
  
"yep! and i'm not gedding unstuckted!"  
  
Jim opened the pizza box and enticed, "Not even for pizza? Plain cheesy pizza?"  
  
Happy blue eyes checked out the warm, delicious looking pizza, then turned back to his daddy. Tightening his grip around his father's neck, he exclaimed, "i wanna stay stuckted forever!"  
  
Jim walked up behind the 'stuckee' and the 'stucker', found sensitive tickle spots and, as Jake squirmed and squealed, Jim pried him from Sandburg's back. Holding him away like a wiggling puppy, one that was trying to kiss him, Jim huffed out, "Pizza awaits, O Master of the House. Now you get settled in the kitchen with daddy while I escort Mags to her car, okay?"  
  
Legs kicking, Jake said, "no, no, must kiss mags bye!"  
  
Jim turned him around as Maggie leaned forward and let the wiggle wart plant one on her cheek. She kissed the tip of his nose and, while slipping into her jacket, said, "You be good, eat all your dinner and take all your medicine, all right, Jake? And I'll see you on Monday."  
  
"kay. bye, mags!"  
  
"Bye, bye, sweetie."  
  
Jim set Jake down and watched as he promptly took his father's hand and led him into the kitchen. Turning his attention back to Maggie, he said with a smile, "Thanks again for today, Mags. We couldn't have made it without you."  
  
"No problem, you know that. It was planned anyway." As she stepped outside, she grinned and added, "You know, when his grandmother sits, I really miss the tyke. So does Puddles. When is Naomi due back?"  
  
"I'm not sure. In fact, I don't think she's sure, but hopefully any day now."  
  
"Ah, good. And your vacation?"  
  
"Still on the calendar. We leave in two weeks and have hotel reservations, but we still have a few decisions to make."  
  
"But it's Southern California?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"Jake'll love it. Disneyland, the beach--"  
  
Laughing, Jim said, "God, I'm gonna need a vacation from the vacation."  
  
"But you'll love it too," she said as she started the engine.  
  
Jim nodded happily, then waved a final good-bye as Mags pulled away. Walking back inside, Jim gave a little shudder at the thought of Southern California, Jake, and Blair.  
  
Good God.  
  
***  
  
Upon his return, he was surprised to see that Blair had everything ready. Jake was on his booster seat, paper plates had been set out, along with a beer for Jim and juice for Jake. The tea kettle was also on and Jim spotted the mug, tea string dangling over the edge, sitting next to the range.  
  
"Hey, be proud, man. We waited for you," Blair announced.  
  
"yeah, pobby, we waided bud i dind't wand do."  
  
Ruffling Jake's curls, Jim walked over to the range just as the kettle started singing. He poured the tea, carried it over and slid in beside Jake. He pushed the mug over to his partner, then lifted the pizza box lid and whistled. "Wow, this looks good enough to eat, let's dig in."  
  
Jim wasn't the least bit surprised to note how Jake's gaze was continually drawn to Blair's soup. So far, he'd only nibbled at the slice of pizza on his plate. While Jake followed the soup-laden spoon, Jim quietly slid out, took a small yellow bowl from the cupboard, sat back down, caught Blair's look of approval, and poured a nice portion of the soup into Jake's bowl. He removed the pizza plate and pushed the soup in front of his son. Seconds later, Jake was "mmming" happily as he slurped away.  
  
***  
  
Kitchen clean and tidy, pizza wrapped up for tomorrow, yeah, Jim's work was done. He tossed the dishtowel over the rack and headed into the living room fully expecting to see his partner changed and resting comfortably, a Jake-magnet glued to his lap. He found an empty room instead. He tilted his head, heard smothered giggles and, with a knowing smile, headed for Jake's room.  
  
Jim pushed open the door, stepped inside and found … nothing.  
  
If you didn't count the jaguar-print comforter that was now spread tent-like between the bed and Jake's dresser. And if you didn't count the mound under the comforter that had to be Blair's bobbing head.  
  
Hands on hips, Jim said, "Well, this is strange. I seem to have lost a couple of people. But hey, I'm a detective, I'm sure I can find them."  
  
Jim walked to the closet, slid one door open, then said loudly, "Nope, not here. I wonder where they could be?"  
  
Badly smothered giggles greeted his pronouncement and the Blair-head bobbed twice followed by a loud, "Ssh." Jim walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer. "Nope, not in the drawer either. This is quite a puzzle."  
  
A loud guffaw could be heard, followed by Jake's muffled voice saying, "in da drawer? i couldn'd hide in da drawer, i'm too big!"  
  
"What was that?" Jim asked. "I could swear that I just heard my son, but no, I've lost him so it couldn't have been him. I'll just have to keep looking."  
  
He opened two drawers (the two that weren't holding the comforter in place) and clucked. "Nope, not here either. Maybe under the bed?"  
  
Jim walked around to the opposite side of the bed-tent and lifted up the blanket to peer underneath. He could just see Jake's wolf slippers peeking out from behind Blair. "What's that I see? Are there wolf pups under the bed?"  
  
In answer, Jake wiggled his feet and the wolf slippers did a little jig.  
  
"Well, I'll be a blue-nosed gopher! There are wolf pups under the bed!"  
  
"nuh-huh, pobby! they be _me_!"  
  
"They be _who_?"  
  
"me, me, me!"  
  
"O-kay, so who's _me_?"  
  
" _me_ is me!"  
  
"Well, I'm me too, but I'm not you, so who is me?"  
  
"no, no, no-- _i'm_ me and you're _you_."  
  
Jim didn't have to see under the tent to know that Sandburg was holding his laughter in so hard it had to be hurting. The shaking under the comforter told him everything he needed to know. Stepping back around to the tent side, Jim got down on all fours and said, "So if I'm me and you're you and you're _me_ and I'm _you_ , then who's _me_?"  
  
Jim could see movement, knew that Jake had turned and was following his voice, which meant that if he were very careful--  
  
"me is me, thad's who!" Then, " **pobby**!"  
  
"Gotcha!" Jim crowed as his fingers wrapped around a soft wiggling slipper. He tugged and could feel Jake grab on to his other father. Blair's laughter burst forth as he tugged in the opposite direction. Major giggling ensued as Jake struggled to keep from being captured. Blair added the final insult by beginning a tickle attack.  
  
"no fair! no fair!" Jake squirmed in his father's arms as Jim, hand still holding the wayward foot, crawled under the comforter. Unfortunately, he was one too  
many and the spread collapsed.  
  
Pushing the comforter away, a sweaty, laughing Blair said, "I think I know who's me and who's you. I'm me and I'm you and I'm the WINNAH!"  
  
All three fell in a heap, Blair on the bottom, Jake lying across his chest and Jim, now holding an empty wolf slipper, with his head on Blair's left thigh.  
  
"Whew. Well," Jim said between chuckles, "at least I found you guys. And I'm glad to know who me is. But I think I'm the winnah and forever champ-een!" He held the slipper over their heads as if it were the trophy.  
  
Jake flipped himself over, clamored over body parts and came to rest on Jim's chest. He smiled disarmingly, cocked his head and said, "you be me?"  
  
Jim nodded and, as his arm started down, Jake's blue eyes took on a mischievous gleam. Blair rolled his eyes in anticipation and Jake didn't let him down. With a growl, the boy made a leap for the loftily held trophy.  
  
A few minutes of wrestling and giggling, with Blair acting as referee, saw Jake emerge triumphant. Waving the slipper in the air, he exclaimed, "i'm me and the bestest winnah ever!"  
  
Jim, seeing the flushed face of his son, said soothingly, "I agree, but now it's time to settle down, blow your nose and take your medicine. We'll let you play quietly for awhile before we put you to bed. Got it, me?"  
  
"do i have do?"  
  
Blair tweaked the small pug nose and grinning, asked, "Do you have to what? Settle down? Blow your nose? Take your medicine, or play quietly before bed?"  
  
Jake wasn't fooled for a minute. "do i have do go do bed?"  
  
In complete parental unison, Jim and Blair said, "Yes!"  
  
***  
  
Two exhausted men sat on the couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table, Blair wedged in tight next to Jim's body. The fireplace emitted all the light and warmth either man needed at the moment.  
  
"Is he asleep yet?" Blair asked, his voice drowsy with contentment.  
  
"Nope. He's coloring. And sniffling."  
  
"Poor little guy. Nothing's worse for a child than having a 'cod in your node'."  
  
Jim leaned sideways and dropped a kiss on Blair's slightly reddened nose before saying, "Nothing worse for you either, Chief."  
  
"Hey, I'm way bedder!"  
  
"Uh-huh, that's why the congestion's back?"  
  
"My medicine has stobbed working. Bud I'll take some more before bed."  
  
"You know, I've got a newsflash for you, Chief. Blair Sandburg with a cold in his nose is one big turn-on." Jim slid his hand down the front of Blair's sweat pants and tried to cop a playful feel, but Blair swatted his hand away.  
  
"Ugh, no way! I'm icky and sniffling and sneezing and you'll get sick and I'll have to baby you and your senses will go haywire and you won't take anything I tell you to--"  
  
"daddy? pobby? i'm ready for bed but i'm all stuffded up."  
  
Both men turned to see Jake standing forlornly at the entrance to the living room.  As a single unit, they stood, and while Blair picked Jake up, Jim went to the bathroom and retrieved the thermometer.  
  
***  
  
"You ready, Champ?"  
  
Jake nodded and opened his mouth. Jim slid the spoon in and Jake swallowed. At the same time, Blair read the thermometer.  
  
"Well, you have a slight temperature, welp. I think we should have saved the tent adventure for later, eh?"  
  
Jake stubbornly shook his head and, with a grumpy frown, reached for Jakey. As Blair put the wayward wolfpup into grasping fingers, Jake said, "no, no, no. advenshures are good! and i'm still stuffded and i can'd breathe, daddy."  
  
"Okay, I think maybe some of that lemon and honey we almost had earlier?"  
  
"yes, please?"  
  
Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder and said, "I'll get it. Back in a flash."  
  
Blair nodded and, as Jim left the room, said, "While Jim is getting you the toddy, I'm going to get a 'Nomi' remedy, so don't go anywhere, okay?"  
  
"too stuffded, and my nomi has a remdee too?"  
  
"She sure does."  
  
Jake wrinkled up his nose, then said, "daddy, what's a ... remdee?"  
  
Blair kissed the small nose, then said, "It's something that will help your cold. I'll be right back."  
  
Smiling, Blair hurried out and into the bathroom. Pulling open the drawer on the left, he prayed the small jar had made the move with him from the loft all those months ago. His hand hit something made of glass and he grinned. Lifting it out, he stared at the blue jar and nodded in satisfaction.  
  
Oddly enough, he couldn't for the life of him remember why he had Vicks VapoRub in the first place, but thank God he did. He grabbed a small face towel and hurried back to Jake's bedroom.  
  
"Okay, welp, this is going to help a whole lot. Mom used it on me a time or two and it works."  
  
He set the jar on the nightstand with the towel, walked to Jake's dresser and took out the top to the only pair of pajamas that buttoned. They were red with yellow piping and a yellow duck on the front. Jake hated them and refused to wear them even though they'd been his Christmas gift from "gampa" William. To this day, William didn't have a clue that his grandson wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything with a duck on it. Even at four, Mister Porter had standards.  
  
The moment Jake spotted the red pajamas, he started shaking his head. "no, no, daddy, won't wear those."  
  
"Jake, I know they have a--duck--on them, but right now, you need to be wearing pajamas that button and you'll see why. I swear on my honor not to tell a soul that you wore a duck to bed. I swear."  
  
"promuse?" he asked glumly.  
  
"Cross my heart, welp."  
  
Extending his lower lip in the classic Jake-pout, he nodded. "'kay. bud I bed even harry podder wouldn't wear dad--"  
  
"Harry would if he needed to, but then, Harry could just change the duck to lion. In fact, if you look at this duck just right--"  
  
"wid my eyes closed," Jake interjected sadly.  
  
"Yes, well, that works too. Okay, let's get that top off and this one on, Hoss. Pronto."  
  
Together they pulled the yellow jammies over Jake's head and quickly slipped the duck top on. As Jake started to clumsily button it, Blair stopped him. "No, that's why you need to be wearing these. We're not going to button up. Instead, I'm going to put something on your chest that will help the congestion."  
  
Blair opened the Vicks, dipped two fingers in, and scooped out a gob. Hand poised over his son, he warned, "This is going to be cold, but only for a second. It will warm up quickly and you'll feel better almost right away. You ready?"  
  
With a face scrunched up at the strong odor of menthol, Jake started to shake his head, but Blair jumped in. "Jake, do you trust me?"  
  
The pout expanded and Jake's eyes filled with tears as he nodded miserably.  
  
"So let me do this." Then in the voice of a carnival barker, he promised, "And if you're not one hundred percent satisfied, I'll give you double your money back, young man, no questions asked! Now is that a bargain or what?"  
  
A small smile twitched at the corners of Jake's mouth as he said, "double my money?"  
  
"Yep. Why, I'm so certain of this wonder product, that I'll give you **three** times your money back if not completely satisfied. Now you can't do better than that, Mister Porter."  
  
Jake held up his hand and wiggled all five fingers.  
  
"Ahem. Yes. Well. You drive a hard bargain, Mister Porter, but it's a deal. If not completely satisfied, you get," Jake wiggled his five fingers again, "yes, you get **five** times your money back."  
  
"'kay."  
  
Blair plumped up the pillows and helped Jake shift back until he was resting comfortably, but bolstered by the pillows. Blair applied the cream, then gently and lovingly rubbed it in. When done, he wiped his hand on the towel, draped it loosely over Jake's chest, and asked, "Well, sir?"  
  
Jake wrinkled his nose, then touched the towel in wonder. "feels - waaaarm, daddy."  
  
"Feels good now, doesn't it?"  
  
"mmm. feels real gooood."  
  
Blair was capping the jar when Jim entered, a small steaming dinosaur mug in his hand. "Okay, one lemon with honey drink, Master Jake. And what's that smell?"  
  
"me. id's me. i smell gooooood, don't i?"  
  
Nose twitching, Jim was about to say Jake smelled like the men's locker room, but one look at his bedmate forced some rapid back peddling. Dialing down, he smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah, you smell real good, Jake. I'm impressed. Here, it's just the right temperature. Enjoy."  
  
Jim handed him the mug, then sat down at the foot of the bed. It was obvious neither man would be moving until the lemon and honey was a distant memory and their son was asleep.  
  
Jake happily blew, slurped, smacked his lips and downed the drink in record time. Holding out his cup, he said, "all done, and all bedder."  
  
Grinning, Blair took the mug. "All better, uh? Well, then, let's get you tucked in and swap some good-night kisses, okay?"  
  
"i'm down wid that."  
  
***  
  
By the time Jake was asleep, Blair was ready to follow. Jim took the Vicks and the mug while Blair just managed to get himself up, drop a final kiss on the top of Jake's curly head, then head into his room to flop down on the bed.  
  
When Jim came in, Blair turned his head but didn't get up.  
  
"You don't look very comfortable, Chief."  
  
"I am, though."  
  
"Uh-uh. Why do I think I should lock up and then get us both tucked under the covers?"  
  
"Cause you're one hell of a detective?"  
  
Grinning, Jim said, "Why, now that you mention it, I am."  
  
Blair's response was to yawn, then sneeze.  
  
"Right. Bed it is. I'm going to lock up, Sneezy."  
  
"I'm living in a yuk fest."  
  
  
***  
  
Jim took a slight detour to locking up, stopping first in the guest bathroom to gleefully re-grab the Vicks, then the kitchen for a little of "gammy's" remedy--with a shot of the Ellison cure-all.  
  
While the water heated, he locked up and turned out the lights, then after making the special drink for Sandburg, Jim headed back to their bedroom. Upon entering, he was surprised to find Sandburg awake, but in the same position he'd left him - flopped back on the bed, legs hanging over the edge.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, Chief. Look what poppy brought you." He waved the fragrant, hot drink  
under Blair's nose.  
  
"Poppy? Give me a break. And," he rose to follow the drink, "what is that?"  
  
"My own version of the Porter remedy. Hot water, lemon, honey... and a shot of whiskey. Kill anything in you, Chief. Now get over here while I strip you, get you ready for bed, and ply you with liquor."  
  
Blair crawled across the bed, his body following his nose and the promise of what was in the mug. As he reached the head of the bed, Jim got him turned around and perched on the edge. Placing the mug between Blair's hands, he said, "Drink up while I work."  
  
Blair took an eager sip, eyes closing in appreciation. As he reveled in the heat, the steam, and the combination of sweet, tart and burning liquor, Jim removed Blair's shoes and socks, stood him up, unbuttoned and unzipped, and by the time the drink had been consumed by half, Blair was standing in his boxers.  
  
"Uh, Jim?"  
  
"Ssh. Drink while I finish."  
  
Blair drank and Jim maneuvered him enough to get his sweat bottoms on. With that task accomplished, he took the mug from Blair, who started to protest but Jim waved him off and said, "I'll give it right back."  
  
Jim slipped the sweater over Blair's head and replaced it with an undershirt. As arms and head reappeared, Jim was ready with the mug. "There, see? That wasn't so bad, was it?"  
  
"You're too good to me, man."  
  
When Blair finished the drink, Jim took the mug and set it down before turning back to him. Placing his hands on either side of Sandburg's head, he whispered, "Could never be too good to you, Blair. Never."  
  
With that, he kissed him, a slow, gentle, probing kiss that managed to say "I love you."  
  
When the kiss ended, Jim was supremely satisfied by the look of complete relaxation in Blair's eyes. Chuckling, he murmured, "You're so easy."  
  
A testament to Blair's sated state was the fact that he just nodded and grinned stupidly.  
  
Jim put him into bed, got himself undressed and turned out the bedside lamp before crawling in beside his partner. Like magnets, both bodies moved together, adjusting and shifting until comfortable. Jim ended up on his back, one arm around Blair, who was on his side, left leg thrown possessively over Jim's right, his arm stretched across Jim's chest, hand resting on the older man's shoulder.  
  
"You settled now, Chief?"  
  
"Um, yeah."  
  
"I brought the Vicks--just in case," Jim sniggered.  
  
"Bad move, man. We might mistake it one day …for lube."  
  
"Ouch."  
  
Blair wiggled suggestively as he chuckled against Jim's skin. "Wait, now that I think about it, that might not be so bad. Could be--interesting."  
  
"Right, and this would be when you're bottoming, Chief."  
  
"Now I know I'm tired. That didn't even get a rise out of me."  
  
"Go to sleep, Sandburg."  
  
Several minutes passed as Jim listened to Blair breathe. Even with a cold, Blair's breathing was Jim's night sound -- that and his heartbeat. Nothing should sound this good, he thought. No, everything should sound as wonderful, he amended. Listening to the steady, rhythmic sound, he realized that it was only now dark outside.  
  
"Chief?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"How do you know you're a parent?"  
  
"The bills?"  
  
"Nope, but that's a good clue. The real way you know is that you're in bed before eight o'clock."  
  
"On a Friday night," Blair added sleepily.  
  
***  
  
Jim was wide awake and he knew exactly why. He glanced at the clock--four in the morning. Next to him, Blair, even though sound asleep, was grinding back into Jim's body. He groaned into Blair's neck and tightened his grip around the compact body. This was not fair. He was wide awake, hard as a rock, and Blair slept blissfully on and completely unaware of what his gyrations were doing to him.  
  
Blair wiggled again.  
  
Okay, all's fair in love and sleep, which meant that if he had to be awake, thanks to a raging hard on, then damn it, Sandburg should be awake and the recipient of said hard on.  
  
Jim lowered his arm and snuck his hand under Blair's undershirt. He gently began to stroke the skin, moving up to where the hair spread out, his fingers playing with the short curls. Eventually he turned his attention to Blair's nipples. Teasing them slowly, he began to rain tender kisses on Blair's neck with quick forays into the irresistible curls.  
  
"Chief," he whispered, "you're about to be ravaged by a wild sentinel--"  
  
"Mmm," came the sleepy but definitely interested reply.  
  
"A wild and uncontrollable sentinel who's eyeing that blue jar--"  
  
"Don't even think about it, Wild Man, or you'll be taking a cold shower instead of ravaging a helpless police detective."  
  
Jim licked at the nape of Blair's neck and said, "Helpless? You? Not hardly."  
  
"You gonna ravage or argue?"  
  
"Umm," he hummed into delectable skin, "I choose--ravage."  
  
"Excellent choice."  
  
***  
  
Something wet and--icky. Jake shifted, wiggled, and rolled over. He reached for the soft, furry Jakey, tucked the stuffed animal under his chin, and let his eyes drift shut.  
  
Except--there was something wet and icky.  
  
Jake reached beneath him and found the problem.  
  
"daddy?" It was a soft, sad whisper.  
  
He'd wet the bed.  
  
"pop-py?"  
  
Jake sat up groggily, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then carefully pulled the sheet and comforter away from his body. He let everything slide to the floor and, moving stiffly, crawled out of bed, wiggled out of his pajama bottoms and, using only two fingers, picked them up and let them drop on top of the sheet. He glanced over at Jakey and could feel the tears pooling behind his eyes.  
  
Time to face the music.  
  
Jake padded slowly and quietly down the hall to his parents' room and stopped dead.  
  
The door was closed.  
  
He blinked back the tears as his arm rose. Somehow a finger ended up in his mouth as he tried to decide what to do next. Standing in the hall, cold, miserable, and alone, he cocked his head and heard soft gentle laughter from within. With a hopeful smile, Jake took two tentative steps forward--and knocked.  
  
He could hear the rustling of blankets, the stifled chuckles, and finally -- footsteps.  
  
A moment later, the door opened and his daddy stood in front of him, but he wasn't looking at him. He watched as his father checked up and down the hall, a quizzical expression on his face.  
  
"Yes? Who's there?"  
  
In spite of the fact that Jake was standing in the hall early on a Saturday morning, wearing only the awful duck pajama top and wet briefs, he giggled.  
  
"What? What was that? Did I hear someone giggle?"  
  
"yes. me."  
  
Blair turned away and said over his shoulder, "Jim, we seem to have a 'me' out here."  
  
"That's impossible, Chief. I'm me."  
  
Jake tugged on his daddy's sweats and said sorrowfully, "this me... wet his bed, daddy."  
  
The smile was replaced by concern and tenderness as Blair immediately squatted down and opened his arms wide. Jake's eyes shifted away as he shook his head. "all wet and--icky."  
  
Blair simply held out his arms wider.  
  
Jake plunged into them, then buried his face against his daddy's undershirt. Blair scooped him up as Jim got out of bed.  
  
"I'll get the clean sheets, son. Don't worry, we'll have your bed ready in no time." Walking past the two, Jim paused long enough to drop a kiss on top of Jake's  
burrowed head before heading out and into Jake's room.  
  
Blair could feel the small tremors running through Jake's body, so he rested his lips against Jake's temple and murmured, "It's okay, Hoss. You're sick and it was just an accident."  
  
Jake's muffled voice floated up--  
  
"… sick and you didn't wet the bed--"  
  
Jim returned at that moment, a bundle of wet sheets and pj bottoms in his arms. With a mischievous grin, he said, "How do you know, Jake?"  
  
Blair reached back and thunked Jim on the shoulder, which solicited a yelp. In mock indignation, Jim said innocently, "Hey! I was just asking a question, you know?"  
  
"Doofus."  
  
Jake's quiet giggle brought smiles to both men.  
  
"doofus," Jake mumbled against Blair's chest.  
  
"If this is 'pick on Poppy' time, I'm going into the bathroom and pout."  
  
"Go -- pout, but first -- kiss our son."  
  
"kiss, poppy."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Jim sighed. "Oh, the things I do--"  
  
More giggles and Jake finally lifted his head in order to receive the loud wet raspberry for his efforts.  
  
Before Jim could pull away, Jake grabbed him and said, "kiss daddy, poppy!"  
  
"Oh, yeah, Jim. I want a raspberry too."  
  
One eyebrow rose dangerously. "Oh, you do, do you, Chief?"  
  
"yes! yes! poppy!"  
  
Juggling the wet sheets in one arm, Jim snaked his other arm around Blair and quickly planted one just under Blair's jaw to Jake's wild clapping.  
  
Heading into the bathroom and the laundry hamper, Jim said, "Now who's the doofus?"  
  
***  
  
"Come on, Jake, my man. Let's get you cleaned up and in nice warm pj's, then back to bed for a few more hours, okay?"  
  
Jake nodded, eyes shining with love. Blair walked into the bathroom and set the boy down. "Okay, off with the old, Hoss, and how 'bout a quick bath?"  
  
"'kay."  
  
Jake slipped out of his white briefs, opened the hamper and stuffed them inside while Blair started the water and added some of the special "night-time" bubble bath. Jake padded over to his father and stood beside him, his small body just touching the kneeling man's. Blair checked the temperature and nodding in satisfaction, said, "Okay, let's get your top off and plop you in the bath."  
  
Jake shrugged out of the hated top and handed it to his father. Noticing that it was a bit damp, Blair tossed it over to the hamper, then ran a finger down Jake's cheek, tilted the boy's head up, and said gently, "Jake, it really is okay. This hasn't happened for months, honey. Not to mention that it's a great excuse for bath time with Shamu." He lowered his voice and added conspiratorially, "And we're up at five in the morning to take a bath - no body else in the whole world is up and taking a bath with Shamu."  
  
Jake blinked a couple of times, his eyes growing wider with each blink. "you're not-- mad--at me?"  
  
Pulling the boy close, Blair shook his head and nuzzled the blond curls before kissing each of Jake's eyes. "Jake, neither of us could never be mad for this. I was wetting my bed 'til I was five."  
  
"five?"  
  
"Yep, five."  
  
"so i'm not bad?"  
  
"Jake, if you're bad, then so is every single little boy and girl in the whole world. We all wet our beds at some time or other. You are definitely not bad, young man. Where did you get such an idea?"  
  
"corky says he's bad when he wets the bed. he gets spanked."  
  
Blair's eyes darkened for a moment, but quickly returned to their normal bright blue for his son. He sat on the edge of the tub and pulled Jake onto his lap. Wrapping both arms around him, he said gently, "Well, I'm sorry about that, Jake, but in this house, we don't spank and you're never 'bad'. Understand?"  
  
At Jake's slow nod, Blair went on. "Sometimes you might do things that you shouldn't, like when you used a certain four-letter word the other day, remember?" At Jake's grinning nod, Blair went on. "Then Poppy or I have to talk to you and explain, and sometimes we have to send you to your room and not let you play. But not because you're bad, see? Everyone makes mistakes, but Jake, you know the difference between right and wrong, don't you?"  
  
"yup! if i lie about something, that's a wrong thing to do. if i hurt someone, that's a wrong thing to do. right, daddy?"  
  
"Absolutely. But did you notice you said, 'that's a wrong _thing_ to do'? It's the action that would be wrong, not the little boy. And Jake," Blair turned the boy in his arms so they could once again connect as he added, "wetting your bed is not bad or even wrong, it's part of growing up and learning. You've been getting up to go to the bathroom by yourself for a long time but sometimes nature is just stronger, especially when you're sick. Do you understand now?"  
  
Dark blue eyes glittered back at Blair as Jake nodded his head and leaned forward. He threw his arms around Blair's neck and kissed him, then fluttered his eyelashes against his daddy's cheek.  
  
"You ready for that bath now?"  
  
"ready, daddy! me 'n shamu!"  
  
Blair plopped him in the warm, sudsy water, fragrant with the light, soothing scent of lavender. He grabbed the rubber Shamu, and, in a voice full of fun, said, "Bombs away!"  
  
Shamu dropped in front of Jake with a splash. Cackling gleefully, Jake attacked the whale.  
  
Sitting back on his heels, Blair watched with a soft smile. Strong hands on his shoulders brought his attention up and he found Jim standing behind him, his own face alight with love and laughter.  
  
Kneeling beside his partner, arm around the stocky waist, Jim whispered, "Bed all made and ready for our whale watcher. I heard what you told him." Jim paused to nibble at one earlobe, then kiss a line down the stubbly jaw before adding, "Poor Corky, I know just how he must feel…."  
  
***  
  
They let Jake play quietly for ten minutes before pulling the plug on their late night/early morning Shamu bath. They got him out, wrapped him in one of the big towels and then Jim carried him to his bedroom. Jake was already nodding off so getting him into new pajamas was easy. They tucked him in, placed Jakey in his arms and kissed him good-night for a second time.  
  
On their way out, Jake yawned, then said sleepily, "i'm all better, my nose isn't stufftded anymore, daddy."  
  
"Looks like we're both on the mend, Jake. Sleep tight."  
  
Jim switched off the light and, arm in arm, they walked back to their bedroom. As they climbed into bed and re-situated themselves, Blair said, "You said you knew just how Corky feels, Jim. Care to shed some light on that?"  
  
"Chief, it's almost five-thirty in the morning. Do you really want to know now?"  
  
"Um... yep."  
  
"I knew you were going to say that, but I'm guessing you can figure it out."  
  
"William took the tough love stance with you and Steven when it came to bed-wetting, right?"  
  
"You nailed it, Chief."  
  
"What about your mother?" Blair asked gently.  
  
"The one thing I do remember about her is that she let him. If one of us wet the bed, we had to change it, clean ourselves up, and the next day, with help, we had to do the laundry. Steven was wetting his bed until he was seven."  
  
Tightening his hold on Jim, Blair said knowingly, "I'm betting that his big brother did the bed changing and the laundry, right?"  
  
In answer, Jim rested his lips on the top of Blair's head and murmured, "Love you."  
  
Blair lifted his head and touched his lips to Jim's.  
  
The kiss started easy until Jim groaned and took it to the next level. Hungry for Blair, hungry to show him all his love and receive the same back again, Jim shifted and turned so that he was on top. Blair pulled Jim's head close and devoured his mouth even as his hands smoothed knowingly over the long well-muscled back. They were tired but in need. Blair let his legs slip wide and Jim sunk in with a happy moan.  
  
Moving together, Blair's fingers kneading Jim's ass, dicks aligned and rubbing, their lovemaking escalated even as they warred for possession of the other's mouth.  
  
Slick bodies slid against each other as tongues tangled and hands urged frantically. They were both close but holding back in order to enjoy the complete body connection. Blair brought his legs up and wrapped them high on Jim's back. The change of position brought the older man's cock in perfect position to rub Blair's ass. There was no need for penetration as the feeling of Jim moving and sliding was enough for both men.  
  
Jim came first as he opened his senses to allow Blair's musk to envelope him, to penetrate his skin and mind. Watching Jim's face as he came was all Blair needed. With a final flurry of short upward thrusts, he came.  
  
*****

Breathing slow and easy, bodies cooling, the two men remained in each other's arms.  
  
"Should clean up," Jim murmured.  
  
"Will--later. Ssh."  
  
"Mmm," Jim mumbled as Blair nuzzled just under his jaw, occasionally lapping up a small bit of sweat with his tongue. "You're feeling better too, I see," Jim observed with a grin.  
  
"They say sex is the best cure-all."  
  
"Oh, they do, do they?" Hair rubbed against him as Blair nodded. "So just who are 'they'?"  
  
Blair made an expansive gesture with is arm and said, "Oh, you know-- _they_."  
  
"That would be the famous Sandburg 'they'?"  
  
"S'xtly."  
  
"Uh-huh." Jim wiggled a bit, and, with a laugh, ousted Blair from his chest as he added, "Time to clean up, Mr. Sandburg. Care to do the honors, or shall I?"  
  
Blair answered by bolting from the bed and heading for the bathroom. Knowing that Jim was watching, Blair threw in a nice wiggle. Hearing Jim's chuckle, he smiled and turned on the light in the bathroom. After cleaning himself up, he grabbed another washcloth, wet it thoroughly in warm water, took a larger towel down and returned to the bed.  
  
Kneeling over Jim's body, Blair washed his Sentinel with great love and care. He grinned when Jim started to make the little sounds in the back of his throat, sounds that could only be called purring.  
  
As Blair ran the warm cloth over Jim's chest, he felt a small pang of hate for William Ellison. Not the William Ellison of today, but for the man he'd been and all that he'd done, in the name of love, to his son. What Blair found so amazing was that in spite of his childhood, Jim was a wonderful, loving, and patient father. Protective, caring, and understanding, the man had taken to being a parent like a duck takes to water. Somehow, that too was fitting.  
  
Even when he and Blair had only known each other for a short time, Blair had felt that Jim would someday make a great dad… something he had never been able to see for himself. He'd always felt--too distant. Even now, with Jake, he was constantly afraid; a fact he'd yet to share with Jim.  
  
Loving Jake was easy, incredibly easy, but being a parent was so much more than just the loving part. Blair was pretty damn sure that someday, probably sooner than later, he'd come up short and fail his son and Jim.  
  
Soft snoring told him that Jim had fallen asleep during the clean-up. With a tender smile, Blair took the towels and, careful not disturb the sleeping man, got off the bed and dumped everything into the hamper. For a moment, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, at the worried frown creasing his forehead. He was so different from anyone he'd ever imagined, and so much more than he'd ever expected to be in his life, but he sincerely doubted that he'd measure up in the long run. True parenting simply didn't run in his family.  
  
On the other hand, grand-parenting apparently did.  
  
Great. So when Jake had kids, Blair would finally hit his stride.  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief, Blair turned out the light and made his way back to bed and Jim's arms.  
  
***  
  
Thanks to the unexpected late night bathing, all three members of the Ellison-Sandburg-Porter household slept in. It was after ten before Jim stirred and, as he rolled over and reached for Sandburg, he threw out his hearing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Jake was asleep and, judging from his breathing, was much improved, cold-wise. Between the Vicks and the steamy bath, Jake sounded like he was truly on the mend.  
  
Jim carefully gave Blair a little tug, smiling as his partner slid into his arms. He had no desire to get up yet. The bed, with its warmth and softness, was in direct counterpoint to the hardness of the man he held. Afloat in the gentle Saturday morning, Jim was about to drift off again when he realized that Jake was now up… and tip-toeing toward their room.  
  
Jim could clearly picture the boy sneaking down the hall, face alight, hair in curly disarray as he planned his surprise bed attack on his fathers. Jim was very glad the bedroom door was ajar.  
  
The soft footfalls grew closer.  
  
Jim heard Jake hold his breath, then release it before holding it again. He wondered if he should wake the sleeping beauty in his arms? Nah, better he should be surprised.  
  
Jake stopped just outside and Jim knew he was listening for sounds from his parents, and probably still standing on tiptoe. Any minute the door would….  
  
…creaked open and Jim watched from under his lashes as his son took several quiet, precariously balanced steps inside. A breath was held as Jake wiggled on the tips of his toes, then-- launched himself toward the bed.  
  
In one sleek, smooth move, Jim turned and caught his son mid-air--  
  
" **Gotcha**!" he crowed.  
  
"poppy!" Jake squealed happily.  
  
Jim bench pressed Jake up high, delighting in the laughing face looking down at him, and at the squeals of joy as Jake kicked happily. Jim lowered his arms and kissed the tip of his son's nose, then let Jake kiss his.  
  
"My, my, you are chipper this morning. Feeling better, are we?"  
  
"yes! yes! wanna go to the park-- _now_!"  
  
Bringing the boy down and letting him sprawl across his chest, Jim smiled and asked, "So you'd rather go to the park than wake daddy up and wrestle him to the ground?"  
  
"no! no! wanna wrestle daddy-- _now_!"  
  
Jim knew that Blair was awake and he hadn't needed his sentinel senses to tell him that--no one could have slept through Jake's attack especially since Jim had been forced to abandon him in order to catch their leaping son.  
  
"Okay, Hoss, take him down before he wakes up. Surprise him."  
  
Scrunching up his face, and with eyes narrowed to slits, Jake began a slow careful crawl to the supposedly sleeping man. He shimmied down Jim's chest and tummied his way across the space between the two men. He peeked over one hip to ensure that his daddy's eyes were closed, then took another deep breath, held it, waited--and pounced.  
  
" **Aaargggh! What creature is this that disturbs the Blairgorgon??** "  
  
Blair rolled over, captured his squirming, squealing son, then rolled back into Jim, who captured both.  
  
"it's me! it's me, jake the wizard!"  
  
"AH HA! Once again you fall into my trap, Mr. Jake the Wizard. I shall eat you  
whole."  
  
Blair dug in and began to plant raspberries up and down Jake's throat as he tickled the boy's exposed tummy.  
  
"no, no! let me go or the great poppy will attack you, blairgorgon!" Jake managed to say between giggles.  
  
" _Poppy_? I, the Great Blairgorgon, should be afraid of a … _POPPY_!?"  
  
Jim got into the act by attacking Blair's stomach and tickling without mercy as he huffed, "Yes, Blairgorgon, you _should_ be afraid of me. I am the Great Poppy, Protector of Jake the Wizard!"  
  
Blair's laughter and attempts to elude Jim's fingers forced him to let Jake go. Free at last, he started jumping up and down on the bed until Jim reached out, snagged a pajama clad leg, and pulled the boy down and back into Blair's arms. "Oh, Great Wizard, we should take pity on the Blairgorgon and turn him to our side, the side of love and tickles. What say you, Great Wizard?"  
  
"yes! yes! tickles and eskeeeemo kisses!"  
  
"So be it!"  
  
Blair quickly found himself the victim of a multitude of eskimo kisses and tickles.  
  
"ARGH! I surrender! I am changed," he said humbly. "Have mercy, O Great Wizard Jake."  
  
Jake, now at his father's feet and tickling Blair's soles, popped up at the words of surrender. He cocked his head at Jim, one eyebrow rising dramatically. "poppy? should we let him surrender?"  
  
"Mmm, let me think about that while you go back to tickling his feet, Master Jake."  
  
Smiling happily, Jake said, "'kay!"  
  
Blair fell back against Jim, who was now finding every tickle spot on his body.  
"No fair! I surrendered!"  
  
"The torture will stop, Blairgorgon, when you promise to take Poppy and the Great Wizard Jake out to breakfast."  
  
That got Jake's attention and he immediately began jumping up and down on the bed again while chanting, "yes! yes! brekkie at molly's, brekkie at molly's!"  
  
Panting heavily, Blair nodded in submission. With an exaggerated sigh, he said,  
"I am yours to command, O Great Wizard."  
  
***  
  
Breakfast at Molly's turned out to be a messy meal thanks to spilled and spewed food. The waitress made the first error when, after taking Jim's order, she indicated Jake and asked, "And for the young man?"  
  
Jake, missing the waitress' intent, answered, "daddy will have the piggy blanket."  
  
Spew number one.  
  
Blair shot orange juice across the table and while he cleaned up his mess, Jim said nonchalantly, "Jake? I think she was talking about you and what you want."  
  
Looking from his poppy to his daddy, then up to the waitress, who was grinning delightedly, he said, "oh."  
  
Blair reached for his water and gulped it down before saying, "So, young man, what do you want?"  
  
"um, piggy blankeys?"  
  
"Uh-uh. Miss, the young man and I will both have, um, you know--"  
  
"The piggy blankeys, sir?" she said, her lips twitching.  
  
"Yes. That."  
  
"Very good, sir." Sticking the pencil behind her ear, she walked off, her chuckles trailing behind her.  
  
"Well, Mr. Porter, you made her day, didn't you?"  
  
"uncle simon always calls daddy, 'young man'," Jake explained.  
  
"Hey," Jim held up his hands, "I thought she was talking to him too."  
  
A grape jelly packet flew across the table and landed in Jim's coffee with a splash. Wagging his finger at Blair, Jim said, "Now, now, 'young man', I'd expect much better table manners from you."  
  
Amid Jake's giggles, Jim could hear Blair's 'for sentinel ears only' response of, "Putz".  
  
After their meal had been served, Jake forked one of the dark crinkly sausages and held it up for inspection. "why *is* it a piggy blankey? looks like plain old saus-saaaaaage to me."  
  
Spew number two.  
  
Jim spit out a chunk of his Denver Omlette as Blair, giving Jim his best "how disgusting" look, said, "It's Pigs in a Blanket, Jake. Sausage comes from pigs and the pancake is the blanket. See?"  
  
Jake looked seriously down at the other sausage resting on top of his syrup-laden pancake, then looked back up at Blair. Frowning, he asked, "so does the syrup mean the piggy wet his bed?"  
  
Spew number three as orange juice flew from opposite directions.  
  
***  
  
"Personally, I think we all need to go home and change before we present ourselves in public," Blair observed sourly as he gazed down at his orange juice-designed shirt.  
  
"You exaggerate, Sandburg. We're clean enough and the park awaits."  
  
From his car seat in the back of the F-250, Jake chirped up, "yay! the park! i'm clean!"  
  
"I think I've just been outvoted."  
  
"yup!"  
  
***  
  
Jim pulled into the parking lot, shut off the engine, climbed out and stretched. As Blair got Jake out of the built-in car seat, he asked, "Jim, why don't you head over to Lowe's and pick up the new faucet while I watch over the Jakemeister?"  
  
"Not a bad idea. You've got it on hold?"  
  
"Yeah. Ask for Jerry."  
  
"Will do. Be back in about an hour." He paused before getting back in and asked suspiciously, "That is the only thing you've got on hold, right?"  
  
Blair rolled his eyes and said, "I didn't go _inside_ , Jim. I ordered off the net."  
  
"Uh-uh, so I repeat, it _is_ the only thing on hold, right?"  
  
"Well--"  
  
"I swear, you're worse than Tim Taylor."  
  
"I resemble that remark!"  
  
They might have traded a few more quips, but a small boy tugged on his father's jeans. "park? me? jungle gym? now?"  
  
Jim, grinning from ear to ear, leaned over, dropped a quick kiss on Blair's mouth, tweaked Jake's nose, then jumped back into the truck and took off.  
  
"daddy? park?"  
  
"Right. Park."  
  
***  
  
"how fast?"  
  
"way fast and curvy too. but i wasn't ascared."  
  
"then i won't be, that's fer sure!"  
  
"oh, no, you won't be ascared, jakey. but ya gotta go on at least five times!"  
  
Cherry was climbing up the monkey bars, her attention riveted on her shining goal; the top rung. Across from her, Jake, one shoe off and dangling from his wrist thanks to shoelaces, was also climbing.  
  
When Jake and Blair had arrived at the playground, they'd found Cherry and her father, Terry. Spotting each other, Jake and Cherry nearly jumped into each other's arms before scampering off, leaving the men to talk. Now the two children were climbing the Mt. Everest of park monkey bars, while a few feet away, Terry and Blair were deep in a discussion about baseball season.  
  
Jake stretched one skinny leg up while, at the same time, wrapping his small fingers around the cold metal. Grunting, he hauled himself up. Once on an even foothold, he asked, puzzled, "why five times?"  
  
"because, silly," Cherry, panting, stopped her climb to look across the bars at her best friend and future husband, "it's a ruuule! and you're gonna want to. disneyland is the bestest but thunder mountain is even more bestest!"  
  
At her pronouncement, Cherry resumed the climb leaving Jake wondering how one ride could be better than the whole. "but--but, corky said spacey mountain is the bestest but nothing is more bestest than the all of dizzyland!"  
  
Cherry froze.  
  
"spacey mountain?"  
  
Jake wiped his sweaty, dirt-smudged face and said, "yup! he said it were all dark and fast and scary but that he didn't cry at all but he did keep his eyes closed the whooooole ride."  
  
Cherry puzzled over this for a few moments, then her face cleared and she whooped, "'a course it were dark, he had his eyes closed."  
  
Jake chewed on that piece of information for a moment, then nodded and said cheerily, "okay."  
  
They continued their climb.  
  
When they got to the top, they sat back-to-back and surveyed their domain. Off near the swings, Blair sat with Cherry's dad, both laughing. Jake waved and yelled, "daddy, look at us!"  
  
Blair looked up and waved back, as did Terry. Satisfied that his daddy had seen their accomplishment, he went back to quizzing Cherry about Disneyland, she being the resident expert, having gone in April.  
  
"did you go on spacey mountain?"  
  
"no-oo, my mommy said it was too fast."  
  
"so corky was right?"  
  
"well," she tapped her chin, then nodded as she conceded, "he coulda been."  
  
Jake was now stuck. Corky _had_ been allowed on Space Mountain and had declared it the bestest, but Cherry, his future wife, hadn't. To whom did  
he owe his allegiance? His future wife or his forever best friend?  
  
"maybe i shouldn't go on spacey mountain?"  
  
Always wise to let Cherry decide the honor questions, he decided.  
  
Spreading her arms wide, she declared loudly, "jakey should go on every single ride cause he's the bestest and the bravest!"  
  
Blushing at the praise, he said, "well, i'm not the bestest or bravest, my daddy and poppy are. and it wasn't your fault your mommy wouldn't let you ride spacey mountain, so i'll ride once for me and once for you, 'kay?"  
  
"an you'll keep your eyes open for me, jakey?"  
  
Puffing out his chest just a bit, Jake nodded and said proudly, "a'course."  
  
"and you know how to get there, to disneyland? because we got losted!"  
  
Jake considered that and quickly discarded any notion that he, his daddy and his poppy wouldn't be able to find the great Disneyland. "i found my magik wand and staff, didn't i?"  
  
"yup," Cherry nodded emphatically. "but disneyland is way more tricky. it fooled my daddy."  
  
"not more smart than my daddy or poppy!"  
  
"i don't know, jakey. we drove for hours before we found it!"  
  
Jake shook his head, blond curls whipping in the breeze. "wouldn't happen to my poppy. he can find anything -- ever!"  
  
"my daddy is a fire-maaan and he couldn't find it."  
  
Jake turned and scrunched up his face in anger. "well my daddy and poppy are cascade detek-tuves and they can find anything." With that, Jake started climbing down, eager to get his daddy to confirm his words. He was angry that Cherry would even suggest his daddy and poppy couldn't find the great and wonderful Disneyland.  
  
He went down fast, but with one eye on his future wife, just in case she'd need him. She didn't. He sighed as he accepted the fact that she could climb better and faster than him. His feet hit the ground and he was off. He could at least run faster than Cherry.  
  
Legs pumping, even without one shoe, he ran to his daddy's side. "daddy! daddy! tell cherry, tell her you and poppy can find dizzyland, tell her _now_!"  
  
Blair barely had time to catch the small body that thudded into him. Air whooshed from his lungs but he managed to reach down and pick up his son. Dirty bare legs wrapped around his waist as Jake's flushed face was pressed against his. Sweet baby breath with just a hint of maple syrup wafted over him.  
  
"tell her daddy, tell her _now_."  
  
Cherry ran up and hugged her father's leg as she looked up at Jake.  
  
"Tell her what, Jake?"  
  
Jake tugged on his daddy's shirt, then put both hands on either side of Blair's face. Very solemnly, he said, "cherry said you and poppy won't be able to find dizzyland cause it's smarter than you. tell her no!"  
  
Blair looked over his son's head to Terry, who grinned sheepishly. Turning his attention back to Jake, he gazed into his earnest and worried face and sighed inwardly. Diplomacy was the key here, although he couldn't fail to catch Terry's smug expression. "Well, Jake," he finally said, “I don't think we'll have a problem because Terry will make sure we find it, since he's been there."  
  
Blair shared his version of a smug expression with Terry, who wisely surrendered by saying, "Oh, sure. No problem, Blair. And don't forget Knotts Berry Farm too. We'll make sure you find that as well."  
  
Jake's eyes popped wide as he said, "knotts berry farm, daddy?"  
  
Suddenly Cherry was jumping up and down in excitement as she yelled, "ooh, i gotta tell you 'bout the rollycoaster ride, jakey!"  
  
Blair set Jake down next to Cherry and watched as hand in hand, they ran back to the monkey bars, but neither man missed Jake's last remark--  
  
"but poppy would find dizzyland even if it didn't wanna be found."  
  
***  
  
At the end of the afternoon, one dirty, but happy child with only a hint of sniffles, along with a worried detective with more than a hint of sniffles, and one sentinel with visions of Blair in full plumber gear, headed home.  
  
As Jake ran ahead of them and into the courtyard, Blair tugged on Jim's jacket, slowing him down. "Hey, man, we've got a problem."  
  
Stopping, Jim said worriedly, "We do?"  
  
"Yeah, Knotts Berry Farm. Terry mentioned it today and then Cherry told Jake all about it."  
  
"And the problem would be?"  
  
"Hello?" Blair knocked on Jim's hard head, then said, "Disneyland and Knotts Berry Farm in one vacation?"  
  
"Well, yeah. Hey, we're gonna be there, why not?"  
  
Blair looked as though he wanted desperately to argue that it wasn't that simple, but Jim grinned and reeled him in. "Come on, Chief. Our vacation is gonna be a blast. Two days at Disneyland, one for Knotts Berry Farm, a couple of days at the beach, maybe the San Diego Zoo…."  
  
Wrapping his arms around Jim's waist, Blair tilted his head up to gaze at the mischievous eyes looking down at him. "And what genius came up with all that?" he asked.  
  
"Um, I do believe that was - you. Yes, I'm almost certain it was. Well, all but the Knotts part."  
  
"And you're up for all that?"  
  
"Heck yeah. Fun in the Southern California sun."  
  
Blair gave Jim his most charming shrug and responded, "Crowds, crowds, crowds--"  
  
"And Jake with eyes bugged out of his skull, taking it all in, running helter skelter, having the time of his life. Not to mention my bedmate, riding every ride and having the time of his life--"  
  
A yell from the courtyard ended their discussion as an anxious four year old decided that the whole apartment building needed to know that he had "to GO - NOW."  
  
Laughing, the two men hurried through the arch to one jiggling youngster.  
  
***  
  
Saturday night was quiet with the last of their colds leaving Blair and Jake content to sit quietly while Jim read a few chapters of book three of the Harry Potter series. Dinner had consisted of soup and fruit and now, with a glass of apple juice on the table in front of him, Jake relaxed against his daddy, eyes at half-mast as he reveled in Harry's adventures.  
  
With darkness finally edging out the last of the long day, Jim finished the current chapter and closed the book. "Something tells me it's bedtime, Hoss."  
  
Jake nodded sleepily and said through a yawn, "'kay, you go to beddy-bye and daddy and i will stay here and read another chapter."  
  
Blair chuckled and drew an imaginary '1' in the air over Jake's head as he said, "That's one for the Jakemeister."  
  
Crossing his eyes at his mate, Jim said, "Hoss, you know exactly whose bedtime it is." He stood up and wiggled his fingers, then watched as Jake crawled off his other father very slowly.  
  
"i don't wanna go yet. can't i stay here with you? a little longer, pleeeeze?"  
  
Jim simply waited, a half smile on his face. Jake lowered his head, scuffed his slipper and said in a low disappointed voice, "o-kay."  
  
"Of course, you could – ride -- to bed," Jim offered as he held out his arm.  
  
"o-kay!" Jake launched himself at the arm and Jim swung him up and over so that he could perch on Jim's shoulders.  
  
Looking up, Jim said, "You ready, Jake?"  
  
"ready!"  
  
"Good. And don't forget to duck."  
  
Blair watched as Jim started to trot. With his hand holding Jim's shirt like reins, Jake bounced happily atop his shoulders yelling, "giddyup, horsey! giddyup!"  
  
Grinning, Blair rose and followed.  
  
In Jake's room, Jim lowered Jake just enough so that when he let go, Jake bounced happily on the bed. He landed on his back and, laughing, pulled Jim down for an eskimo kiss and a pet.  
  
"good horsey, good horsey, poppy!" He scratched Jim's head as he giggled. Jim nuzzled his curls and gave Jake his best whinny. By the time Blair walked in, Jake was in the throes of a full-fledged giggle fest and trying to neigh back at his father.  
  
Blair leaned against the doorframe and found himself wondering about this Jim. He was so different from the man he'd met four years ago. And yet--  
  
"daddy, daddy, kiss, want a butterfly kiss before i go to bed! must have it now!"  
  
Pushing himself away from the wood, Blair joined the two. Every type of kiddie-kiss possible was exchanged, robe and slippers were discarded, and one little boy, who was quickly running out of steam, was tucked in, along with Jakey, by his parents. More kisses were exchanged and, finally, the light was extinguished.  
  
Walking back to the living room, Jim, his arm around Blair's waist, observed,  
"You're kind of quiet tonight, Chief. Something up?"  
  
"No. Just kind of--amazed. This," he waved at the space around them as he went on, "can't be what you'd planned for yourself, Jim. What you saw in your future, you know?"  
  
The flickering firelight danced over Blair's face, catching his hair ablaze in colors rarely seen by the sentinel. The strange glow allowed Jim to see more in Blair's eyes than he imagined Sandburg knew was there. Jim stepped close, but didn't touch. "You're right, Blair. This isn't how I saw myself, ever. The life I'd always pictured was barren compared to what I have now."  
  
He reached out and stroked his thumb down the side of Blair's face as he added, "Even in my wildest fantasies, as I'd dream of the life I might be able to have with you, it was never this good. And believe me, those dreams were great, Blair."  
  
It could have been the burnished gold lighting as it moved across Blair's face, but Jim felt certain that there were tears in Blair's eyes. He stayed where he was, his hand resting on Blair's face.  
  
"You're a great father, Jim. Did you know that?"  
  
"Thank you. That means a lot to me. But let's face it, Chief, he's four. Why don't we re-visit this 'great father' thing in about twelve or thirteen years when he wrecks the car, okay?"  
  
A smile tugged at the corners of Blair's mouth as he said, "You'll still be a great dad because it'll be my car he wrecks."  
  
Jim finally took Blair into his arms and, holding him tight, whispered, "We actually make perfect fathers for him, Blair. We know what we each missed and needed and we give it to him. It's kind of simple really."  
  
Blair didn't say anything because there was nothing to say. William Ellison might have made some mistakes, but he'd loved his sons. Which was saying a great deal more than could be said for Blair's father--whomever and wherever he was.  
  
Jim brought his lips to Blair's ear and whispered, "You wanna watch television or fool around?"  
  
"You know, Jim," Blair whispered back, "I'm thinking I could use a good--ride. You make one fine horse."  
  
***  
  
Sunday found Jake sniffle-less, but not so for Blair. As Sandburg plodded into the kitchen, hair sticking out in all directions, eyes mere slits, yet heading unerringly for the coffee, Jim piped up, "Seen better days, have we?"  
  
"Seen better everything." A sneeze interrupted his reaching for a cup and he quickly fumbled for a paper towel with which to blow and wipe. After tossing the mess into the trash under the sink, he washed his hands, then made another attempt at securing some much needed coffee.  
  
"You're worse, Chief."  
  
"Not so much worse as--"  
  
"Worse."  
  
Adding sugar to his brew, Blair shook his head. "No, really, not worse. Just--"  
  
"Worse," Jim interrupted again.  
  
"I'm--back to square--two, okay? And where's Mr. Porter?"  
  
"Mr. Porter is out in the courtyard with Corky. He's been up for hours, as have I. We generously allowed you to sleep and aren't we kind?"  
  
"Um--considering that it was you who kept me up, yeah, damn considerate, man."  
  
Blair slid in beside Jim, and blowing on his coffee, said, "Bed. Me. All day."  
  
"Good decision. I'll keep Jake busy."  
  
"He's okay?"  
  
"Yep. Right as rain."  
  
While Blair sipped his coffee, Jim folded the Sunday paper and said, "I thought I'd take Jake shopping later since he's gonna need some new clothes for Southern California. Afterward, I thought we'd stop at the market--"  
  
"Um, that's a good idea," Blair interrupted. "He's gonna need some luggage of his own too. Something he can have ownership of, you know? Other than his backpack."  
  
Amazed, Jim watched as Blair took the nicely folded paper and immediately unfolded it in order to spread it messily out over the table. With a shake of his head at the mess, Jim said, "Good idea. Anything you want in particular from the store?"  
  
Blair shook his head and buried himself in the comics.  
  
With a bemused expression, Jim said, "So, as I understand it, Naomi was eaten by a lion, right?"  
  
Absently, Blair nodded.  
  
Grinning, Jim asked, "And speaking of Naomi, think maybe you'd better check on when she's due? If she'll need a lift?"  
  
"She'll call," Blair replied absently, his mind taken up with Hagar.  
  
"You hungry?"  
  
Blair made a face, then moved to the Editorial page and immediately started mumbling about columnist Richard Edwards and his inability to see the obvious, like the need for a decent health plan.  
  
"I'll take that as a no then. Why don't I just quietly disappear with Jake, maybe pick up a couple of girls, have a little party, some recreational drug use--"  
  
"Good idea, man. I'm back to bed when I finish ranting about Edwards."  
  
Shaking his head again, Jim slid left and, mug in hand, stood. He walked to the sink, washed the cup and set it in the drainer. With a sneaky smile, he walked back to the table, took the paper out from under Blair's red nose and at his, "wha?", lifted the guy to the his feet. He pulled Blair's body so close to his that it was a wonder the younger man didn't disappear, and then proceeded to kiss Sandburg into oblivion. Just as Blair's body went boneless, Jim released him. As Blair flopped helplessly back down onto the bench, eyes unfocused, mouth open, Jim said, "That'll teach you to take me for granted, Sandburg."  
  
With a smug, self-satisfied smile, Jim headed out. As he walked through the dining room, he heard Blair's response.  
  
"The girls are okay, Jim, but NO recreational drugs. You're a cop!"  
  
  
***  
  
The house was quiet without Jim and Jake and Blair was finding that he didn't like it one bit. He'd managed to sleep once they'd left, but said nap hadn't lasted long, thanks to missing them. Which was ridiculous. Hell, he'd been alone off and on for most of his life.  
  
Wandering the silent apartment, sneezing occasionally and sniffling constantly, he stopped at the dining room table. With a smile, he picked up one of Jake's stuffed animals: Pengy, to be exact, and held it to his nose. He tried to get a whiff of his son, but the congestion, while much improved, still kept him from smelling.  
  
Damn.  
  
Frustrated, he shuffled back to the living room and the couch. Lifting his book, he started to read.  
  
***  
  
Jim glanced down at the cart and rubbed his chin, then checked his list again. Looked as though he had almost everything. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned. Jake stood in front of a shelf, his own red and yellow plastic cart in front of him. He was doing a bang-up job of imitating Jim by rubbing his chin and glancing at every jar within eyesight. Small hands touched each jar, then turned them as Jake peered at the labels. But unlike Jim, he simply chose the brightest jar.  
  
"poppy? want this one, this one is the bestest."  
  
"Jake, sweetheart, those are capers and you don't like capers."  
  
"i don't?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
With a scrunched-up face, he put the bottle of capers back--very carefully. "what do i like here?"  
  
"Well, actually, not much. Although, down here," Jim moved Jake to his left, "are the pickles and we need a jar."  
  
"i'll pick the bestest, don't worry, poppy!"  
  
Except, Jake couldn't reach them.  
  
Smiling indulgently, Jim lifted him up, which, amazingly enough, placed Jake right in front of the "bestest" pickles.  
  
"Okay, Hoss, which ones?"  
  
"ummmmmm, this one!" His small fingers closed around the right jar and triumphantly, he held it aloft.  
  
"You did it, Jake. That's the one."  
  
"a'course."  
  
Jim put Jake back on the ground and, with carts in tow, they headed toward the check-out.  
  
They emptied Jake's first and the cashier didn't seem the least surprised to be pricing frozen yogurt, chocolate skim-milk, baked potato chips, cookies and Count Chocula breakfast cereal. And a jar of pickles. As she finished with Jake's, he tugged on his poppy's jacket and asked, "do i pay, poppy?"  
  
Swinging the boy up and putting him in the seat of his cart, Jim grinned. "Oh, I think I'll get it this time, Hoss. You can catch it next time, okay?"  
  
"kay!"  
  
When all the groceries were checked and bagged, "paper, not plastic" as Jake had proudly informed the cashier, Jim swiped his card and signed the receipt. Just as Jim was pushing the cart to the exit, a young redhead bumped into their basket.  
  
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."  
  
"No problem," Jim hastened to reassure the woman, who was smiling sweetly at Jake.  
  
"Is this your son?" At Jim's nod, she held out her hand. "Well, hi there. I'm Sarah."  
  
Jake shook jauntily, saying, "i'm jake!"  
  
"It's good to meet you, Jake. Are you married, by any chance?"  
  
Giggling, Jake said, "not yet."  
  
"Oh. And where's your mommy?"  
  
Jake was about to point at his poppy, who quickly intervened. "His other father is at home--with a cold."  
  
Jim watched the young woman blush, then stutter before finally saying, "Well, it was good to meet you, Jake. Take care."  
  
"bye!"  
  
Smiling, Jim wheeled Jake and their groceries to the truck.  
  
***  
  
"Ssh, let's see if we can get this stuff put away without waking daddy, okay?"  
  
Jake put a finger to his lips and tiptoed into the kitchen after his father. Together they put everything up, Jake taking charge of those items that belonged on the bottom shelf of the pantry or refrigerator. They were finished in record time and Jim gave Jake the task of folding the paper bags for storage.  
  
While Jake did his thing with the bags, Jim fixed hot chocolate. A few minutes after he'd added the cocoa to the steaming milk, the kitchen door swung open and Blair, looking only slightly comatose, walked in, nose sniffing.  
  
"Cocoa? Do I smell cocoa?"  
  
"No."  
  
"poppy!"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Thank you, Jake. Did you two have fun at the store?"  
  
"yup! but poppy bought this time. i'm gonna pay next time, though."  
  
With one eyebrow arched, Blair walked over to Jim, slipped an arm around the older man's waist, and peeked into the pot. He sniffed again and asked, "You're gonna pay next time, Hoss?"  
  
"yup!"  
  
"What did you buy at the mall?"  
  
"oh, we didn't go, daddy. i wanted to wait for you. when you're better, then we go, 'kay?"  
  
Sensing that the man currently attached to him was stunned silent by Jake's pronouncement, Jim asked innocently, "How's your cold, Chief?"  
  
"Better. Slept, took medicine, missed you guys, slept some more, and you really didn't go to the mall?"  
  
"Nope. Jake made an executive decision, didn't you, Hoss?"  
  
"yup!"  
  
"Well, I thank you, Master Jake. By the way, Jim, Joel called."  
  
Pouring the chocolate into three mugs while Blair got out the whipped cream, Jim asked, "And?"  
  
"And--nothing. They've had no luck in connecting the gun to Barelli."  
  
"Damn."  
  
"Yep. But if we're right and that gun belonged to Mrs. Sabotini--"  
  
"hot choc-o-latte?"  
  
"Ooops."  
  
Grinning, Blair affirmed, "Big oops."  
  
Jim picked up his and Jake's mug while Blair got his and the whipped cream, then they headed for their son, who'd already settled in at the table.  
  
"We were just passing the time while the chocolate cooled enough to drink, Hoss," Blair explained as he held the whipped cream can over Jake's mug and squirted a nice round dollop onto the dark rich liquid. He turned his attention to Jim's mug, but between his congested state and trying to observe his son's approach to the frothy cream in his mug, Blair missed.  
  
"Uh--Sandburg?" Jim said sweetly.  
  
"Huh? Ohshit, oh, man, I'm so sorry--"  
  
"Would you like to take your finger off the--"  
  
"Ohmanohman, so sorry--"  
  
Before any more damage could be done because Blair's finger seemed to be stuck, Jim whisked the can away, ending the stream of creamy whiteness. Jake's giggles escalated to loud guffaws even as he snuck a hand over and started to scoop some from Jim's arm and the table and plopping it into his mouth.  
  
"Jake, you behave, I'm going to put your daddy to bed before he destroys the house, okay?"  
  
"'kay! but soon as i'm done with my hot chocolateee, i'll be in to keep you company, daddy, i promuse."  
  
Jim snatched up Blair's mug, then with one hand on the younger man's shoulder, he guided him through the apartment, down the hall and into their bedroom. As they walked, Blair kept up a constant stream of reasons why he didn't need to go back to bed.  
  
"Come on, Chief, you're zonked."  
  
"But, but, but, that's a natural state for me, Jim. I'm fine, really, honest. Can't I stay up?"  
  
Laughing at Blair's stricken expression and Jake-like plea, he kept pushing until they were inside and Blair was on the bed. Handing him his hot chocolate, Jim ordered, "Drink up while I get your medication, then it's back to bed for you and you don't move the rest of the day, understood?"  
  
"Slave driver."  
  
"Don't get me started on whips, chains and Slave-Blair or we'll both be sorry, Chief."  
  
A moment later Jim returned with more cold medicine and watched with love as his stubborn mate threw the pills back and swallowed a gulp of hot chocolate. With a playful smile, he made a show of tucking his partner in, saying, "Nappy time. Maybe later you'll feel human enough to handle two tasks at one time, Mr. Sickee."  
  
"Ooh, that was mature."  
  
"Go to sleep."  
  
Putting his cup down on the nightstand, he whined, "I don't wanna be alone."  
  
"Baby."  
  
"Well, I don't. So there."  
  
"My big tough detective. When Jake finishes, we'll come back and spend the afternoon in here. Will that satisfy you, Macho Man?"  
  
Eyes sparkling, Blair nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, and hurry up."  
  
***  
  
"wait!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"toys. must have toys for daddy to play with!"  
  
"What do you suggest, Hoss?"  
  
Face scrunched up in thought, Jake pondered the question for several seconds before his expression brightened. "puzzles, robots and books!"  
  
"Right. Lead the way."  
  
They walked into Jake's room and Jake immediately sprinted over to his toy box, threw out two large stuffed animals and three books with a disdainful glance, then held up two robots. "these! you take while i look for more, poppy."  
  
Jim dutifully complied and Jake dove back into the fray. Seconds later he came back up with a puzzle box and two thin books. "kay, we be done. daddy will be all set!"  
  
"Right you are, Hoss. Let's go, but quietly, in case daddy's asleep."  
  
"right."  
  
Upon arriving back in the bedroom, they found Blair dozing. Jake climbed onto the bed and crawled over to his daddy while Jim placed the robots on the nightstand and went into the bathroom to change into sweats.  
  
It was going to be a lazy hazy Sunday.  
  
***  
  
Three hours later the bed was littered with robots, half finished puzzles, open books, and it was now Jake, curled between his parents, who was sound asleep. Jim was watching television while Blair read and sniffled.  
  
Fingering one of Jake's book, Jim said, "So, how would you review Lemony Snickett?"  
  
"Actually, Jim, this is a pretty good book. I'm glad we bought it. We can start reading it to Jake tonight."  
  
"You're kidding?"  
  
"No, really, it's good. I love it."  
  
"Can't possibly beat a checkers tourney," he replied, indicating the television screen.  
  
"Checkers? On television? What, no golf?"  
  
"Over. Tiger won."  
  
"Duh."  
  
They both watched the tourney, still disbelieving that checkers would be on TV. As one round ended and the winner remained, another contestant sat down and began to wipe down each of his pieces. "A little anal, Chief?"  
  
"You'd be the best judge of that."  
  
"There's no way you can compare me to that. I mean, he's actually wiping down every single one of his checkers -- and look -- now he puts on gloves. Jeez."  
  
Blair's eyes narrowed as an idea floated close, then out of reach. He watched as the player sprayed the area around the table... and it came back to him.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
"Yeah, Chief," Jim answered, his eyes riveted to the screen.  
  
"Bullets."  
  
"No, checkers. Bullets are these little shiny cartridges, you know? You've got some in your gun, in case that had escaped your notice."  
  
"Riiight. But when I, hello, load my gun, Jim?"  
  
Jim lifted the remote, snapped off the power, turned to his mate and felt his forehead. "No fever. Was that question, like, a metaphor?"  
  
Closing his eyes in exasperation, Blair mumbled, "You are some great detective, Detective."  
  
"Actually, I am. But your metaphors can be creepy in the best of times."  
  
"It wasn't a metaphor. When I load my gun, I get fingerprints on the clips, don't I?"  
  
"Um--yeah," Jim said, clearly puzzled.  
  
"Okay, so I'm planning a murder. I have the gun, maybe purchased off the street, whatever. I bring it home, I load the clip into the gun, then put it away until it's time. Hide it, maybe. Then the day arrives. I dress, it's cold out, I put on a coat and – gloves -- because I know what I'm gonna do. I drive to my victim's residence, go up the back way because I'm expected and I have a key. I make nice. Then I take out the gun, which I had dropped in the pocket of my coat – after -- putting on my gloves, and I shoot her. I drop the gun and leave."  
  
"Serena would have checked the clip for prints, Sandburg."  
  
"Naturally. But Jim... the bullets? He might have had to actually load the clip?"  
  
"Ah. Gotcha. So while he might have wiped down the clip, he'd forget about the bullets--"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"God, we're good."  
  
"Yeah. If there are fingerprints and they belong to Barelli."  
  
  
***  
  
For a Monday, the streets of Cascade were oddly quiet which allowed Jim and Blair to make the journey from Maggie's to the station in record time. As they pulled into the underground garage, Jim glanced over at his partner, who hadn't stopped smiling since leaving Maggie's.  
  
"Okay, care to share?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The event that precipitated that grin."  
  
"Oh, that. Just Jake."  
  
"Ah. He did try hard this morning, didn't he?"  
  
Chuckling with the memory, Blair nodded. "Oh, yeah. He almost had me convinced that I should stay home--with him, of course. That I was still 'hor-bleeeee' sick and needed him to make me all better."  
  
"I don't know about Jake, but I think Mondays are the most difficult for me. I mean, we have this little island called home with our son and for two days we manage to leave the mess that is humanity behind us. But then Monday rolls along and we have to leave our island."  
  
"We wouldn't have it any other way, Jim."  
  
"You're probably right, but it's damn hard when Monday shows up."  
  
"I still can't believe that we're even doing the whole weekend thing. I mean, you've had the seniority for it but until now--"  
  
"I know." Jim parked and the two men glanced at each other and shared a huge grin as they said in perfect unison, "Parents."  
  
***  
  
"So, that's our idea."  
  
As Blair finished, Simon sat back and tried to gauge the reactions of the other detectives to Sandburg's theory. At the nodding heads, he steepled his fingers and asked, "You're trying to tell me that Serena wouldn't have checked for fingerprints on the clip?"  
  
"Clip, yes, but the casings? Not likely."  
  
"So you're saying that this whole thing hinges on the slim idea that Barelli had to load the clip?"  
  
Jim leaned forward and, in an almost eager voice, explained. "Look, when guns are purchased legally, the seller will often load the clip for the buyer, then give them the gun, the clips and however many boxes of cartridges ordered. Hell, even when purchased illegally, a guy will get the gun and a loaded clip. But there is an outside chance that--"  
  
"The buyer, in this case, Barelli, took the clip, the gun, and the bullets, and loaded later," Simon finished for him.  
  
"Or had the gun and the clip but had to purchase the cartridges," Jim added.  
  
Megan, excited by the theory, added, "That really fits since we know he didn't purchase the gun through normal channels." She glanced at her partner, who nodded absently even as he reached for the folder on Barelli.  
  
"Joel? You've thought of something?" Blair asked, the expression on the older man's face keying him in.  
  
"I don't know--something's ringing a bell here. Something in our background on Barelli."  
  
Blair immediately grabbed the other folder which contained press clippings about Barelli, Sabotini and Sabotini's wife. While both read, neither knowing exactly what they were looking for, the others talked amongst themselves and Simon called Serena Chang.  
  
"Got it!" Blair's head snapped up, eyes bright with discovery as he snapped his fingers. Joel and the others waited expectantly. Smiling, Blair asked Joel, "Would that little voice of yours be saying something about a case that Barelli's law firm might have handled recently? A case where the weapon went missing and the--"  
  
"Yes!" Joel yelled triumphantly. "Homicide maintained that the lawyers for the defense concealed the weapon and that's why their client walked."  
  
Jim, with a huge grin, "If I remember correctly, and I do, the gun in question just happened to be of the same caliber as the one that killed Mrs. Sabotini."  
  
Simon, who'd been holding for Serena, gave his group a thumbs up sign. A moment later, his forensic expert came on the line and Simon said, "Serena, need two things from you. I need you to dust the casings from the Sabotini weapon, then do a comparison between the bullet pulled out of Mrs. Sabotini and the bullet from a previous case--"  
  
He glanced over at Joel who mouthed, 'Constantine', and finished with, "The Constantine killing of about three months ago. Yeah, that's the one. Let us know as soon as you've got something. Thanks, Serena."  
  
Smiling, he replaced the receiver, took out a cigar, sniffed it, and said, "I think we may just have our man, people."  
  
*****

"Well I'll be damned."  
  
Connor, Henri, Joel, Rafe, Jim and Blair stood around Simon's desk, all waiting as their captain read Serena's report.  
  
"Uhm, sir?" Blair hazarded.  
  
Expression giving nothing away, Simon glanced up from the report.  
  
"Sir?" Jim parroted.  
  
"It would seem--we have a match. On both counts. Barelli's very nice thumbprint on one cartridge and a match to the Constantine bullet." He put the report down and said happily, "Sometimes, I love being a cop."  
  
"I don't suppose having the Constantine weapon will do anything for that case?" Megan asked.  
  
"No way, Connor," Henri responded. "Lawyers hiding a gun? Doesn't mean Michael Constantine committed the murder. And any fingerprints that might have been there are gone now. Combine that with double jeopardy, and we're screwed."  
  
"Damn," the Aussie muttered.  
  
Simon stood and leaned on his desk. "You're right, Brown, but this does assist the DA in taking down the very clever defense lawyers. They're now screwed."  
  
Connor, Brown and Rafe high-fived each other in turn as Simon said, "Ellison? Sandburg? What are you waiting for? Get cracking and turn up the heat on Barelli."  
  
"Yes, sir," the team of Ellison-Sandburg said in unison.  
  
***  
  
Barelli's lawyer was standing at the desk in Holding, waiting for the release of his client, the forty-eight hours coming to a close. As he tapped his foot impatiently, a voice interrupted his thinking.  
  
"Good to see you here, Mr. Prescott. Your client is going to need you in a minute."  
  
Prescott turned and found himself face to face with Detective Ellison and his partner, Sandburg. "I'm here to get my client out of this place. Your time is up, Ellison, and you've got nothing. Give it a rest."  
  
Grinning like the proverbial cat with yellow feathers sticking out of its mouth, Jim said, "Actually, we're here to take Barelli back to interrogation. It seems some new evidence has come into our possession. I'm sure you'll want to be present?"  
  
Prescott's eyes narrowed dangerously as he weighed Ellison's words. Finally he asked suspiciously, "New evidence? What could you possibly have found, Detective?"  
  
His tone was snide and Blair felt his hackles rise. Stepping forward, he said with a grim smile, "I don't suppose you remember the Constantine case, Mr. Prescott?"  
  
"Why, Chief, if I remember correctly, Mr. Prescott here was one of the lead attorneys on the case."  
  
Prescott wisely kept silent. A few seconds later, a cuffed Barelli was led out and handed over to Ellison and Sandburg. Blair immediately extended an invitation to Prescott. "Care to join us?"  
  
***  
  
"Well, here we are again, Mr. Barelli. Seems like old times," Jim said as he sat on the edge of the table.  
  
"Detective Ellison, I know my rights. You can't hold me one more minute, unless you charge me."  
  
"When you're right, you're right." Jim got to his feet and said solemnly, "Morgan Barelli, you're under arrest for the murder of--"  
  
***  
  
"He clammed up, Simon. But it's over. And he's trying to get a new lawyer." Jim's grin was almost ear to ear.  
  
"Ah, too bad. So Prescott backed out? Gee, wonder why?"  
  
The three men shared a laugh as they drank coffee and ate their sandwiches from Styrofoam containers.  
  
"It's been a good morning, gentlemen. Who gets the honor of informing Sabotini?"  
  
"I'll do it, Simon," Blair offered. "I'm sure he'll be relieved."  
  
"By now, he's probably wishing he had killed her, Chief. He's had all weekend to track his finances, and even if he can't tell yet who helped her, he knows damn well what she did."  
  
"The very least of which," Simon guessed, "was to have an affair with Barelli?"  
  
Before either man could answer, Sandburg's cell phone chirped. Blair flipped it open. "Sandburg."  
  
 _"daddy, daddy! puddles is gonna have babies!_  
  
Next to him, Jim gave out with a surprised whistle.  
  
Blair punched Jim in the arm before saying, "Puppies? Is Mags sure?"  
  
 _"oh, yes, daddy, everyone is sure even though puddles is a boy! i tol' cork it were a mir-a-kle."_  
  
"Well, actually, Hoss, Puddles has always been a girl, we just got into the habit of referring to him—her—as a him."  
  
 _"oh. so it's not a mir-a-kle?"_  
  
"I'm afraid not, Jake. Other than the fact that all births are miracles."  
  
 _"oh. okay."_  
  
There was a thoughtful pause and Blair held his breath, praying that the next question would have nothing to do with "can i have one, daddy?".  
  
 _"how many puppies, daddy? corky says only one, cherry says a gazilion! can dogs have a gazillion puppies?"_  
  
From his left, Blair heard a distinct snort so he elbowed Jim before saying, "That kind of depends, Hoss. A dog can have as little as two or three or as many as six or eight."  
  
 _"eight? we could have eight puppies?"_  
  
Sending another prayer heavenward, Blair said, "Well, _Puddles_ could have eight puppies."  
  
 _"oh. daddy, corky got a bunny rabbit today."_  
  
The groan from Jim could probably have been heard all the way to Seattle.  
  
"He did?"  
  
 _"yup! for his birfday! does this make me the baby, daddy?"_  
  
"Uhm, no, it just means Corky is two months older than you, like Cherry."  
  
 _"but his brother said i was the baby!"_  
  
"Jake? Michael also said there was no Santa Claus, remember?"  
  
Another stretch of silence told Blair that young Mr. Porter was giving his words a great deal of thought.  
  
 _"so he's wrong, right daddy? you're sure?"_  
  
"Positive, Jake. Absolutely positive."  
  
 _"okey dokey."_  
  
More silence and another prayer on Blair's part, this time regarding little boys and bunnies.  
  
 _"daddy?"_  
  
"Yes, Jake?"  
  
 _"am i taller 'an corky?"_  
  
A smile spread across Blair's face as he answered, "Do you need to be?"  
  
More silence. Then—  
  
 _"no-oo, but if i'm not the baby—"_  
  
"Someone has to be older, Jake. Someone will always be older and someone will always be younger. One is not better or worse than the other."  
  
 _"so it's okay that i'm younger?"_  
  
"I think so. I'm younger than Jim and I'm quite happy about that." Blair didn't bother to hide his smirk from his partner who retaliated by tossing an olive at him.  
  
 _"why?"_  
  
He should have known. Time for some quick thinking while ignoring Jim's smirk. "Well, for one thing, Jim can tell me all about turning forty--which I won't be doing for several years, but he'll be doing next year. You in turn, can ask both Cherry and Corky what it was like to turn five. That's a biggie, you know."  
  
 _"o-kay, i'll ask 'em tomorrow!"_  
  
"Good idea. They can give you all sorts of helpful hints too."  
  
 _'kay! i'm gonna go play with puddles now but i'll play soft, 'kay?"_  
  
"Good idea, Jake. We'll see you later."  
  
From the phone, Jim could hear Jake making a loud kissing sound followed by the tell-tale click signifying the fact that he'd hung up.  
  
"Uh, Chief? How did he get your number when we gave Mags mine?"  
  
Folding up his phone and then staring at it in surprise, Blair said, "Hell if I know."  
  
Simon grinned. "My bet? Naomi."  
  
***  
  
"Detective Sandburg?"  
  
Hearing his name, Blair looked up and immediately smiled as he stood, hand extended. "Mr. Sabotini, I'm surprised. All I expected was a return phone call."  
  
"I was in the area when I checked my messages so thought I'd drop in. I take it you have news?"  
  
"Yes. Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"  
  
Carl Sabotini made himself comfortable in the chair in front of Blair's desk as he waved his hand in the negative. "No, nothing, thank you. Just came from a meeting and I'm floating in caffeine as it is."  
  
Returning to his seat, Blair acknowledged Sabotini's words with a wry smile. "Oh, yeah, been there, done that. Sometimes coffee was the only thing that kept my head from making intimate contact with a conference table."  
  
Chuckling, Sabotini nodded. "I hear that. By the way, I can confirm that someone has indeed embezzled funds from my accounts. Unfortunately, my people haven't finished their tracking and can't give me any ideas as to who aided my--wife."  
  
"Well, we arrested Morgan Barelli two hours ago, Mr--"  
  
"Carl. And you're joking?" At Blair's shake, he asked, "You're telling me that my own lawyer murdered my wife?"  
  
"I'm afraid so--Carl. We have all the evidence we need to connect him to the gun."  
  
For a moment, Carl stared at the young man across from him, noting the handsome features and sincere gaze. He was amazed by what he was seeing. Detective Blair Sandburg was as far from being the typical cop as one man could be and still be a cop. He studied the man more closely, knowing that outwardly it would appear as though he were digesting the news regarding Barelli.  
  
Blair was perhaps a couple of inches shy of his own height of five-nine and, while it was clear that he was in good shape, his compact body was leaner than his own. His hair was a deeper shade of brown and Carl hadn't missed the shades of red or gold, or the curl which was obviously just as stubborn as his own. Sabotini knew that he was looking at a good man. He flicked his eyes away and searched the desk for something to distract him. Spotting a framed photo resting on the computer, he asked, "Is that your son, Detective?"  
  
Following Sabotini's gaze, Blair nodded, a proud grin on his face. "Yes, that's Jake. Jacob Michael Porter."  
  
Glancing quickly back at Sandburg, one eyebrow arched in question, Sabotini said, "Porter?"  
  
"Adopted – or at least – soon to be officially adopted. I knew his grandmother and when she – died, I was named Jake's legal guardian. Hopefully the adoption will be finalized at the end of the summer."  
  
"Ah, I see." Carl leaned forward and peering closer, said, "You know, he actually looks like you."  
  
"It's just the curls."  
  
"And the blue eyes, and the chin, and even in this picture, the expression, well, it's you."  
  
"Actually, he looks a great deal like both his mother and grandmother. And oddly enough, I think he looks like Jim."  
  
"Jim?"  
  
"My partner. Detective Ellison. Jake's other father."  
  
"Ah. Co-conspirators and co-adopters, eh?"  
  
Liking the way Sabotini put it, and wondering why he'd just confided in a complete stranger, let alone a man who just a few days ago had been a suspect in a murder, Blair found himself smiling and nodding.  
  
"You said mother? Is there a possibility that she--"  
  
Blair's eyes darkened for a moment, sadness radiating from their blue depths. "No, she died with Jake's grandmother, Karen Porter. They were, she was--on her way home, after a very prolonged absence. They were killed in a traffic accident."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Blair. Is Jake doing well?"  
  
"Yes. It's been close to a year now. He'd been staying with me while Karen joined her daughter in Boston and we were already very close." A blush crept up over Blair's features as he quickly changed course. "And I can't believe I'm telling you all this, Mr--" at a raised hand, Blair quickly amended, "Carl. We should be talking about your wife's case. My apologies."  
  
"Please, no apology necessary. I asked, remember?" He glanced back at the photo of the laughing boy on a swing, a stuffed wolf in his arms. "I'd love to meet Mr. Porter some day."  
  
"I'm sure that can be arranged."  
  
Looking back at Blair with disbelief, Carl said, "Why do I not think Detective Ellison would be in favor of his son meeting a shady character like Carl Sabotini?"  
  
"Shady? I don't think so. Rumors aside, I see before me a very astute businessman and one that I doubt anyone really knows."  
  
For a moment, the two men gazed at one another, small smiles playing over their lips. It was Sabotini who finally broke the spell with a cough. He glanced away before rising to his feet. "I would assume that my people should continue the investigation?"  
  
"Most definitely," Blair said as he too rose. "If you can come up with the evidence proving that he was the one who assisted your wife, it would be the final nail in his coffin, so to speak."  
  
"Of course. And thank you, Detective Sandburg. I hope to meet you again under less stressful circumstances."  
  
Blair walked around his desk, hand out. They shook, and if Sabotini held the hand a bit longer than strictly necessary, the only person who might have noticed was absent.  
  
"You know, I have three extra tickets for the Kits game Friday night. Would you be interested in them?"  
  
"You're kidding, right?"  
  
Grinning, Carl shook his head.  
  
"We'd love them," Blair said, barely able to contain his excitement. "Jake hasn't been to a real game yet."  
  
"Then it's settled. I'll leave them at Will-call, in your name. I may even see you there. And thank you again, Detective."  
  
"Blair, please."  
  
"Blair."  
  
Wondering why he felt so comfortable around the man, Sandburg escorted Sabotini to the elevator as they discussed the cost of the tickets and the game. He was sorry when the elevator door closed and he was no longer in the man's company.  
  
***  
  
"Wait, he was here?"  
  
Blair exited the search engine, clicked on the CPD icon and finally shut down. The tone of Jim's voice held more than astonishment that Sabotini would come to the station and Blair didn't want any distractions while trying to figure out the source of that tone.  
  
"Yes," he said, as he turned to face his partner. "He was here. Carl received my message on his voice mail and since he was in the neighborhood, he came in."  
  
Dropping into his chair, Jim was struck dumb by Blair's idiocy. His inability to speak lasted all of fifteen seconds. "Sandburg, you've been a detective how long now? Don't answer that," he added as Blair started to speak. "You've evidently failed to learn anything in the last three years as Costello to my Abbott, Laurel to my Hardy, and...."  
  
"Holmes to your Dr. Watson? Or perhaps Nick Charles to your Nora Charles?"  
  
"Sandburg, don't get cute with me. I'm the senior officer here."  
  
Blair picked up a pencil, pulled a pad to him and started writing and mumbling under his breath—  
  
"Note to self - you may no longer be cute with Jim. He is the senior officer and from now on, you must not be cute." He underlined – repeatedly – the word "cute" before glancing up and saying innocently, "Okay, got it. Any more pearls of wisdom, Detective First Grade Ellison?"  
  
"You are in so much trouble, Sandburg. Now you know damn well that a prime suspect is NOT going to voluntarily come in because he just happens to be 'in the neighborhood'."  
  
"Jim, whatcha doin' Friday night?" Blair promptly batted his eyelashes.  
  
"Taking you to Conover for a head exam, why?"  
  
"Oh, too bad. We have tickets, three of them, for the Kits game. That's three. One for me, one for Jake and one for?" Blair waggled his head, prompting an answer from the now stunned sentinel.  
  
"Three tickets for the Kits game? Is that what you just said?"  
  
"Tsk-tsk. They say the hearing is the first to go."  
  
The light in Jim's eyes went dark with suspicion. "Let me guess. The tickets came from _him_."  
  
"Him? Carl Sabotini is now a _him_? Jeez, Jim. I know damn well you liked the man. We both did. So what's your problem now? We know he's innocent and he gave us tickets." Blair gave a small "get over it" shrug.  
  
"Sandburg, if you don't know what's wrong with this, I'm sure not gonna tell you."  
  
"Think we can be home by five? Game starts at six and I'm buying the tickets, Jim. Imagine, Jake's first real baseball game. We'll have to get him a Kits cap and you know he'll want a pennant and…."  
  
Jim, somewhat mollified by the word "buying", shook his head in wonder even as he stuffed down the feelings of disquiet.  
  
***  
  
"s'plain again."  
  
"Well, we're going to the stadium and we're going to watch a real baseball game."  
  
"what do we do during the commercials, poppy?"  
  
"Uhm. Okay. Commercials. Well, let's see--"  
  
"poppy, was i a puppy?"  
  
Jim frowned and actually squinted at his son. Jim didn't need to squint at anything--ever, but with this particular four year old, squinting helped his brain to come up with plausible explanations for the recent development of Jake's to change subjects mid-stream.  
  
"Uh, no, no. Now Jake, you know you weren't a puppy. You were a baby."  
  
"uh-huh. s'plain again about the _real_ baseball game."  
  
Dear God.  
  
"Blair!"  
  
From the dining room, Blair tipped his chair back so that he could see his frustrated mate. With an angelic expression on his face, he asked innocently,  
"Y-es?"  
  
"Get in here, pronto."  
  
Blair, who'd been checking his email, now made a show of shuffling papers, putting the papers away, and finally rearranging his pencils in a neat, orderly line-up.  
  
" Sandburg!"  
  
Slowly he pushed back from the table, stood, stretched, and finally sauntered into the living room. "You bellowed, Jim?"  
  
"I did not bellow and you need to explain baseball and the lack of commercials to our son. Now."  
  
"But Jim," Blair said as he sat down next to Jake and winked. "You said this was simple, a walk in the park, that's what you said--"  
  
"Blair, so help me--"  
  
Jake watched the exchange and, with his head zipping back and forth like a ping pong ball, grinned. Finally tiring of the game, he climbed onto Blair's lap, tugged his daddy's hair and, in his best 'I'm in charge' voice, demanded, "s'plain. s'plain now."  
  
Blair, in the middle of hurtling another jab at his hapless mate, stopped, glanced down at the shining face looking up at him in adoration, and promptly kissed the tip of Jake's nose. "Why don't you share with poppy and me what you think is going to happen when we go to a real baseball game, Hoss?"  
  
Jake stared up at the ceiling, his finger in his mouth. "um, well, we go to a place called a stad-eee-um and there's this green diamond and the players and they play real baseball without commercials but then what do we watch on television if we're going to see real baseball in person? and i like the commercials and what if i have to go pee?"  
  
Blair blinked. "Uhm."  
  
"Well said, Darwin."  
  
Blair stuck out his tongue.  
  
"You're the epitome of mature, Sandburg."  
  
Blair stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes.  
  
"I need a beer. I'm fast regressing." With that, Jim rose and hurried into the kitchen, Blair's laughter following him.  
  
"daddy? daddy? s'plain, now. what if i have to go pee?"  
  
"Jake, if you have to go to the bathroom, one of us will take you, like when we go to the movies."  
  
"so i'll miss some basey-ball?"  
  
"You might. But it depends on your timing." Blair grinned at the confused expression on Jake's face as he hastened to explain. "If the inning is up, we'd probably have time while the opposing players move onto the field."  
  
Jake's forehead wrinkled with thought as he tried to draw a connection between watching baseball on television with commercials, and watching it for real--in person. Finally he whooped and said, "so the commercials come after innings, right, daddy?"  
  
"You know, Jake, you are one smart cookie."  
  
Jim returned with two beers and one apple juice. Smiling, he sat down next to Blair, offered him the beer and handed Jake his juice. All three clinked their bottles and took nice swigs. Wiping his mouth with the back of his daddy's sleeve and ignoring the warning "Jake", he tilted back his head and said, "'splain where puppies come from, daddy."  
  
Jim put his arm around Blair's shoulder and with blue eyes sparkling, said, "Yeah, Chief, 'splain where puppies come from."  
  
***  
  
Jim came out of the bathroom wearing a towel around his neck and nothing else. Rubbing the back of his wet head with the end of the soft terrycloth, he said, "We are not taking one of those puppies, Blair."  
  
Sandburg, who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a magazine on his lap, looked up just as his glasses slipped down his nose. Nudging them back up, he said, "No worries, Jim. The puppies are spoken for, thank God. I've already talked to Mags."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
Jim nodded happily and sat down on the edge of the bed. Continuing to dry his hair, he lifted the edge of the magazine to see the title, then chuckled. "Since when do you read People Magazine, Chief?"  
  
"Since I'm hornier than a seventeen year old who's been locked away with senior citizens all summer and you decided to spend over thirty minutes in the shower. It was either People Magazine or starting without you."  
  
Jim gave his mate a thoughtful look, then nodded. "Makes sense to me."  
  
"You asshole. Come here."  
  
Jim laughed, dropped the towel on the floor, grabbed the magazine, tossed it over his shoulder and carefully removed Blair's glasses. He placed them on the nightstand, but before he could turn back around, Sandburg had his arms wrapped around Jim's waist and his lips skimming shower-moist skin.  
  
"Wanna wrestle?" Blair murmured softly.  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
  
***  
  
Jim listened to the sounds of Blair and smiled. People who weren't sentinels had no appreciation of the noise of life made by their bedmates. He was pretty certain such sounds would bug the hell out of others, but to him, the small snuffles, sighs, and occasional half-snores that a sleeping Blair made were much like a symphony to him. He tightened his grip on Sandburg and immediately loosened it in a guilty move. He knew about his fears, knew deep down that his greatest fear was losing the man in his arms, and he knew how easy it would be for him to become silently obsessive. Like holding on tight in the middle of the night.  
  
A cloud moved across the full moon that had been allowing a sweet silver stream of moon glow to paint their bed. Damn. He'd liked that strip of moonlight.  
  
Funny how Blair needed the shades up at night. Probably had something to do with his old room back at the loft. That little cubbyhole hadn't offered much in the way of sunlight, let alone moonlight. Jim glanced over at his sleep mask and grinned. Still needed that, but not nearly as often. Amazing how having sex on a regular basis allowed for him to fall asleep without it.  
  
Blair shifted in his arms and snuffled charmingly against Jim's bare skin. It tickled and brought a smile to Jim's face – a smile that almost immediately disappeared as he thought of Friday and the upcoming game, a game they'd be attending courtesy of Carl Sabotini.  
  
Why the hell did that man bother Jim so much? Why was he so uneasy around him, yet charmed at the same time? What was it about Carl Sabotini that had captured their attention so completely and yet sent the hair on the back of Jim's neck rising to new heights?  
  
He wasn't sure whether this Friday would be a good day or not. True, it would be special in as much as it would be Jake's first baseball game, but the tickets were thanks to Sabotini. And Blair really liked Sabotini.  
  
Damn, he needed to sleep. Six o-dark thirty came mighty fast.  
  
So did Fridays when you weren't looking forward to them.  
  
And if that weren't enough to keep him awake, they still had a vacation to finish planning. Jim sighed, then buried his face in Blair's hair.  
  
  
***  
  
Jim grabbed the small baseball cap and twirled it on his finger. It was his hint to Sandburg to get his cute ass into gear. Sandburg was ignoring the hint as he kept his cute ass perched on the edge of Brown's desk, hands moving excitedly as he advised Henri on his love life. Jim looked at the large clock on the far wall. They were running late, time to do something.  
  
"Oh, Sand-burg," he said in a sing-song voice. "We're going to be late, which means Jake will be a holy terror, which means _you'll_ have to deal with him because I'll go to the game in my truck—alone—while you and the holy terror follow in the Vol-vo."  
  
Without even turning his head, Blair waved a hand in a gesture that clearly said, "We've got plenty of time, worrywart, take a load off and sit down," and kept right on talking to Brown, who was grinning like a goon now.  
  
Jim sat back down at his desk. He started humming and twirling the cap on his fingers. Blair kept talking. Jim sighed.  
  
For a man who, just a few days ago, had been dreading this day, he was oddly excited now. The tickets might be thanks to one Carl Sabotini, ex-murder suspect and all 'round shady character, but it was still Jake's first game and Jim was looking forward to watching his son's face as he saw a real baseball diamond for the first time. He was looking forward to a good many first times tonight. Which meant he needed to get Blair going.  
  
"Uhm," he said loudly to anyone who would listen, "I don't really mind sitting here while my partner gives Brown a lesson in wooing a woman, but I suspect that at any minute, Simon could walk through that," he pointed at Simon's office with Jake's new baseball cap, which was still dangling from his finger, "door, and he'll have a new case, and he'll look around and see me sitting here, clearly with nothing to do but play with a Kits baseball cap, and we all know he'll say, 'Ellison, this one is yours. Grab your partner and get in here.' Yep, we all know—"  
  
He got no further as Sandburg jumped off Brown's desk and said, "So the ball's in your court now, Brown. Gotta get Jim out of here before he gets carried away and decides to face down Simon and beg for a new case. Catch 'ya later, man."  
  
They high-fived, with Brown laughing out loud as Blair walked innocently over to Jim's desk, took their jackets down from the rack, and said, "Are we out of here, or what?"  
  
Shaking his head in mock disgust, Jim rose, shrugged, took his jacket from Blair's hand, then placed the too-small cap on top of Blair's head and headed out, the laughter of the entire squad following him to the elevator. He grinned as he punched the 'L'.  
  
***  
  
For all of Jim's hustling of Sandburg, game night still got a late start thanks to a call from Naomi informing them that unless she could catch an earlier flight, she'd be arriving at five the following day, and could someone pick her up? The call had precipitated a lengthy conversation between Naomi and Jake, where upon Jake caught his nomi up on their entire lives. Blair finally managed to get his son's attention by pretending to take a swing at a baseball, a move that succeeded in encouraging Jake to tell his nomi all about "basey-ball without commershulls" and how "i have to time my going pee with the end of the innings, just like the commershulls do".  
  
Eventually Jim simply took the phone from his son, said a quick, "love ya, be there tomorrow, can't wait, see ya", then put the phone down, picked Jake up  
and headed out the door, a laughing Blair following in his wake.  
  
As Jim fastened Jake into the car seat, Jake said, "it's 'lmost dark, poppy. how will they see the ball?"  
  
Blair leaned over the back seat and stuck Jake's new "Cascade Kits" baseball cap on his son's head as he said, "They'll see it just like you see in the dark."  
  
Jake immediately took the cap off, studied it, then grinning, put it back on and said in a reasonable tone, "but i don't see in the dark, daddy. and if they can't see the ball, how will i see them?"  
  
"When it's dark, what do we do in order to see?" Blair said just as reasonably.  
  
Jake turned his cap sideways on his head and said, "i turn on the light, unless it's on the wall and too high, then you or poppy turn it on."  
  
"Right. And they have really big lights at the stadium. In fact, you'll think it's daylight when you walk in. You'll love it, Hoss."  
  
"'kay. but i won't like it if i can't see it, daddy."  
  
"Trust me, you'll see everything, Hoss."  
  
Jake nodded, then promptly slid his cap to the other side of his head, pointed at Jim, and said, "we can go now, poppy."  
  
A bemused Jim rolled his eyes and said, "Thank you so much, Jake."  
  
Petting Jakey the wolfpup, Jake said, "you're wulcume, poppy."  
  
Blair bit back a laugh as he turned around in his seat. Jim mumbled something about how Jake was spoiled but then so was Blair as he started the F-250.  
  
***  
  
It was dark by the time they arrived at the stadium, the line of cars waiting to turn into the giant parking lot promising a long wait. Without taking his eyes from the vehicles ahead, Jim said, "You've got the parking money?"  
  
A ten dollar bill was waved in front of his face.  
  
"Good, good. You know, I remember the days when parking at a game, any game, cost a buck."  
  
"No you don't. You remember your dad _telling_ you that parking used to cost a buck. When I first started at Rainier, parking for any pro game cost at least six-fifty and parking for the Jags was eight-fifty and that was fourteen years ago, man."  
  
"Chief," Jim said as they crept an inch closer to the parking booth, "the Jags were the Jags even then, but come on, the Kits are--"  
  
"Are the Kits, the newest team in the major leagues and Cascade's first pro baseball team since 1942. Just look at the crowd, man. Okay, they have a weird name--"  
  
"i don't think kits is a weird name, daddy. jakey says he loves foxeys, so the kits are the bestest!"  
  
Both Jim and Blair turned around to glance back at their son, who was busily grooming Jakey. Blair spoke first. "Uhm, Jake? How did you know that a 'kit' was a fox?"  
  
"i tol' you, jakey. he says i'm a kit, but i tol' him i was a kuppy."  
  
The cars ahead had moved forward, so Jim turned around and edged the truck up. Stomping down on the same kind of feelings he had whenever a black jaguar showed up in his life, and in an effort to bring the night back to some sense of normalcy, he said with a false sense of cheerfulness, "I agree with our son, Chief. If Chicago can have the Cubs, Cascade can have the Kits. And I bet they win tonight. I bet they slaughter the... who are they playing again?"  
  
Holding his arms in the air, Blair said, "I surrender. I don't know what I'm surrendering, but I surrender. And they're playing the Mariners, which means--"  
  
Jim dropped his head on the steering wheel and mumbled, "The Kits are toast."  
  
Laughing, Blair said, "You can move up again, Jim. And we're almost there."  
  
***  
  
The walk to the Will-call window proved to be almost as enjoyable as the game would later prove to be. Jake was walking between them, one hand firmly clasped in each of his parent's, but the sights and sounds of the parking lot had Jake's head doing a fine rendition of a swivel chair. They were late enough that most of the fans who'd arrived prepared for their tailgate dinner parties, were now cleaning up and getting ready to enter the stadium. Even so, the walk revealed plenty of vans, SUVS, and trucks with their back doors open, tables and chairs scattered on the asphalt, and people still stuffing the last of the buffalo wings, nachos, or pheasant under glass into their mouths. Jake was thoroughly captivated.  
  
As they got closer to the stadium itself, the vendors hawking caps, jackets, programs, balloons, giant blow-up foxes, pennants, popcorn, and a deep fried dessert called "Foxy Tails" caused Jake's mouth to drop open. He finally tugged on both Jim's and Blair's hands and said, "can i? can i, please?"  
  
Knowing exactly what he was asking, Blair lifted him over his head and dropped him down onto his shoulders while Jim, without so much as a blink, got out his wallet and ordered two of the "tails". He handed one up to his lofty son, who let go of his father's hair in order to take it, then handed off the other one to Blair, saying, "You get _half_ , Chief. Save the rest for me while I go pick up the tickets."  
  
Powdered sugar drifted down from above and dusted Blair's eyelashes. Blinking and huffing at his now white-coated hair, he said, "You just forfeited your half, Jim."  
  
Holding in his laughter, Jim hastily brushed at Blair's curls and said a sheepish, "Oops." He glanced up at his son, who was scarfing down the treat with wide eyes, and said, "Watch the sugar droppings, Hoss. You're turning your father into an old man before his time."  
  
Mouth rimmed in white, Jake smacked his lips and said, "'kay!"  
  
Blair rolled his eyes heavenward, took three twenties out of his wallet and, as he handed them over to Jim, said, "We're not even inside yet."  
  
Not bothering to hide his laugh this time, Jim jogged over to the will-call window. The man inside smiled and said, "Name, sir?"  
  
"I believe the tickets are under Sandburg."  
  
"Yes, sir, just a moment." Nimble fingers worked their way through a box and finally brought up a small white envelope. "That will be forty-five dollars, sir."  
  
Satisfied at the amount, Jim forked over the money. A moment later, Blair's change and the ticket envelope were being pushed under the glass. Walking back to his partner, he tapped the envelope against his palm and said, "We're ready, let's go inside." Then he looked up. "Huh-oh," he said. "Um, Hoss? Why did you use your father's head for a plate?  
  
Jake, busy licking his fingers, looked up briefly and said, "daddy makes a good plate, poppy!"  
  
"Jim?" Blair said, the warning clear.  
  
Jim quickly did his best to get the powdered sugar off the top of Blair's head. He didn't tell Blair his best was pretty bad. In addition, he instinctively knew that snickering would be a very bad thing.  
  
***  
  
Jim handed the tickets to the first usher who, after looking at them, smiled blindingly and said, "Right this way, sir."  
  
They followed him around to the right and, surprisingly, over to an elevator. Jim and Blair exchanged puzzled looks as Blair pulled Jake from his shoulders and rested him on his hip. Shrugging, they followed the man inside. Two minutes later, they were following him through a tunnel and out into the stadium. Jake, who had his father's neck in a stranglehold, gasped as he got his first look at a baseball field in the "flesh".  
  
It didn't take an Einstein to figure out that this was Jake's first game, so the usher wisely waited and allowed him to get his fill.  
  
"daddy, poppy, it's beeeee-u-tiful," Jake said breathlessly.  
  
Jim moved close and stroked a finger down Jake's cheek as he said, "Yeah, it is, isn't it?"  
  
"And to think," Blair offered, "some folks actually think the Grand Canyon is nice."  
  
"Yeah," Jim said, his eyes on the brightness of the green diamond, "but they haven't seen this."  
  
"riiiiight," Jake agreed.  
  
***  
  
"I think there must be some mistake," Jim told the usher. "Our seats are the fifteen dollar–"  
  
"Looks as though you've been upgraded, sir. These tickets are definitely dug-out seats."  
  
Jim shot a killer look at his partner, but before Blair could say anything, a familiar voice said, "Detective Ellison?"  
  
Both men turned around and found themselves facing Arthur Dell, owner of the Jags.  
  
Putting out his hand, Jim said, "Mr. Dell." As they shook, he added, "You remember my partner?"  
  
"Of course." Dell reached for Blair's hand as he said, "Good to see you again, Mr. Sandburg." With a glance at Jake, who was resting his head shyly against Blair's face, Arthur Dell added with a smile, "I see the Kits have a new fan?"  
  
Blair wiggled his fingers in Jake's curls in an effort to get his attention as well as reassuring him, and said, "This is Jake, our–"  
  
"Mr. Dell," Jim interrupted, "Blair is now my official partner. He's Detective Sandburg."  
  
"Oh? Congratulations. Are you joining us?"  
  
Jim glanced over at the usher, who nodded. "Yes, sir." He indicated the small knee-high gate that separated the rest of the world from those holding dug-out seat tickets. "If you'll follow me?"  
  
"Go on ahead, I was just getting my wife a drink. See you in a few." He reached out and tousled Jake's curls as he added, "You're gonna love the game, Jake."  
  
Watching Dell head up one level to the concession stands, Jim said, "Well, let's get our... seats."  
  
***  
  
"Jim, I didn't know," Blair explained as they settled Jake on his seat. Because they were in the first row, they were even with the roof of the dug-out so no booster seat was required. There'd be no one in front of Jake.  
  
"That was obvious when the kid said we'd been upgraded, Sandburg."  
  
They'd already introduced themselves to Mrs. Lisa Dell and her grandson, Tad, a fourteen year old who had absolutely no interest in a four year old. Not that it mattered, the Dell seats were actually in the second row and down a bit.  
  
Dug-out seats at the Cascade Kits Stadium consisted of two rows, six seats in each row. They were never sold, but rather given away by Ted Connelly, the owner of the Kits. The wives and family of the players had the seats directly above. The only area that was more coveted were the seats in the owner's box.  
  
Jake, sensing a tension never experienced before, and already a bit overwhelmed, scrunched down in his seat and hugged Jakey to his chest. Blair, seeing the motion, and remembering how often he'd seen something similar not long after meeting Jake, immediately rested his hand on top of Jake's head.  
  
"Hey, Hoss, you okay?"  
  
Jake nodded, but didn't answer, choosing instead to hold Jakey even tighter and it was obvious to anyone that if the pup were alive – it would be dead.  
  
Jim, seeing the grip Jake had on the stuffed animal, immediately zipped back eight months to the period before Thanksgiving, and right after Blair had been shot. The Jakey hug was the same. He jammed his sudden feelings of... whatever... down and leaned over. "Hey, Jake, I just realized that we started dinner backwards tonight. We started with dessert, so how 'bout a hot dog now?"  
  
Jake twisted around and gazed up at his father. He could still feel his daddy's hand on his head and he gave a small smile. "I could... eat. and can I eat backward tomorrow too?"  
  
"We'll see about that, Hoss. Okay, one hot dog for you, one for me, one for daddy, and perhaps some nachos? With the 'plain' cheesy sauce?"  
  
"yes, please, the plain cheesy. and lots of ket-chup on my doggy, please?"  
  
The voice was a bit wobbly and still unsure, but Jake was making his way back. Jim stood up. "You want the all beef dog, Chief?"  
  
Fingers still kneading Jake's head through the baseball cap, Blair said, "No, nothing for me, man. Except maybe a water."  
  
Jim frowned slightly, but side-walked his way out of their aisle. Once he was jogging up the steps, Blair lifted Jake onto his lap.  
  
"Listen, kiddo, you've got to know that sometimes, well, sometimes parents discuss things, and can get–"  
  
"mad?" Jake said, tilting his head up in order to see Blair.  
  
"Yeah, mad is an... okay... word. Jim and I rarely get mad, but sometimes we can get a little... touchy. Or confused, or disappointed, or–"  
  
"is poppy mad now?"  
  
"Not really. Disconcerted might be a better word. That's a grown-up way of saying confused. Were you mad at Corky the other day when he gave Cherry that brownie?"  
  
"not 'zactly, but it _was_ my brownie, and I wanted to give it to her."  
  
"Are you and Corky still friends?"  
  
"a'course. he's my bestest friend in the whole wide world. but he shouldn't have given cherry my brownie."  
  
"Did he know that you wanted to give it to her?"  
  
Jake put a finger on his lower lip and stared up at the night sky, then said, "nooo, I never tol' him."  
  
"So nobody really did anything wrong, did they? But you were still a bit... miffed, right?"  
  
"yup!"  
  
"There you go."  
  
"so you and poppy still–"  
  
"Love each other?"  
  
"yes," Jake answered, head down.  
  
"We still love each other. Would you like to know how I know?"  
  
Perking up a bit, Jake asked, "how?"  
  
"What did I ask Poppy to bring me to eat?"  
  
"nuthin'. you asked for water."  
  
"Right. But Poppy knows I haven't eaten in a long time so I'm betting he brings back a turkey dog with mustard, relish and melted cheese. And a Coke. And my own nachos."  
  
"'cause he loves you?"  
  
"Yep, because he loves me."  
  
Jake raised his hand, palm up. Smiling, Blair gave him five. At the same moment, the players took the field for warm-up and Jake sat forward and whooped with the rest of the crowd.  
  
Now that all was well with his son's world again, Blair sat back and watched his son's joy. A joy that couldn't lift his own mood. His words had been true, but he had his own issues, namely: why hadn't Jim allowed him to tell Arthur Dell that Jake was their son?  
  
***  
  
"Okay, one hot dog with lots of ketchup, one milk, and one small order of nachos with plain cheese for the Jakemeister," Jim announced as he slid past his family.  
  
"where's daddy's water?"  
  
Jim sat down with his barely balanced boxes and set them on the small ledge in front of their seats. As he handed off Jake's hot dog, he said, "Well, I got daddy a turkey dog with mustard, relish and melted cheese, an order of nachos, and a Coke." Jim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of Crystal Geyser and said, "Oh, and one bottled water."  
  
Laughing with abandon, Jake high-fived his father again as Jim looked on and wondered what the heck he'd said that was so funny.  
  
***  
  
"are we winning?"  
  
"Well, not yet, Hoss," Jim said, his eyes on the scoreboard. "But we're only one run down. Do you remember how many innings there are in a game?"  
  
Jake's face scrunched up, then cleared as he announced happily, "nine!"  
  
"Right, and we're at the bottom of the sixth so there's plenty of time to kick butt."  
  
"good, 'cause they gotta kick butt or jakey will be very mad."  
  
Smiling, Jim said, "He's not the only one, Hoss."  
  
Blair had been making notes about the players' stats and, without looking up, said, "They'll win, it's a rule."  
  
Jake's head whipped around and his hat nearly flew off as he asked, "it is?"  
  
"Yep. The rule is very clear. Anytime a four – soon to be five – year old, named Jake, comes to his first game, the Kits have to win."  
  
Jake looked back at the shining green field and his eyes widened. Finally he said, "I _like_ that ruuuule, daddy!"  
  
"Thought you might, Jake."  
  
The Kits pitcher, Rob Widdoes, was winding up for what was hoped to be the final out of the inning. Both men leaned forward….  
  
"daddy, poppy, I gotta go."  
  
"STRIKE ONE!"  
  
The ball was tossed back to the pitcher, who wound up again….  
  
"I gotta go _now_!"  
  
"BALL ONE!"  
  
"Jim…."  
  
"Your turn, Sandburg…."  
  
"No, I took him…."  
  
"STRIKE TWO!"  
  
"I gotta go…gotta go…gotta--"  
  
"No, I took him…."  
  
Jake stood up and started bouncing.  
  
"Next one will be low and inside, betcha five."  
  
"No way, Widdoes will give him the heat."  
  
Jake started dancing and jumping from one foot to the other.  
  
"BALL TWO!"  
  
"Where the hell did that come from? Is that Ref blind?"  
  
"Sandburg, take it from me, that was a ball."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"BALL THREE!"  
  
"Shit, full count and don't tell me that was a ball, Jim."  
  
"It wasn't. That was a good pitch. The Ref is blind."  
  
"daddy? poppy?" Jake clutched at his crotch.  
  
Blair held out his fist and Jim did the same. They shook three times and Jim was holding out two separated fingers while Blair's hand was still in a fist.  
  
"AH HA! Rock smashes scissors. You take him, Jimbo," Blair said as Will Heaton, the Kits manager, headed for the mound.  
  
With a huff, Jim stood and lifted Jake into his arms. He gave the soft cheek a kiss and asked, "You gonna be able to hold it a while longer, Hoss?"  
  
"if you _hurrrrrry_ , poppy!"  
  
"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying."  
  
Smiling, Blair waved as the two scooted past him.  
  
*****

"I'm stuckted!"  
  
Jim really tried not to smile. "Stuck? As in?"  
  
"zipper, poppy!"  
  
"Okay, can you let me in and I'll help?"  
  
"'kay."  
  
Jim could see Jake's ratty white tennis shoes stumble back, then the sound of the latch sliding open. He gave the door a little push and found Jake looking sorrowfully up at him, his fingers tugging hard at the zipper on his new jeans. He started hopping up and down as if the move would urge the metal upwards.  
  
"Okay, hang on and let me help."  
  
Jake stopped and held his arms out and away from his body. Biting back his grin, Jim bent at the knees, ran his finger down Jake's nose, then turned his attention to the errant zipper. "Ah, I see the problem. A bit of the material is caught. Hang on a sec…."  
  
A moment later, the zipper was free. "There, now give it a try."  
  
Grinning happily, Jake pulled it up and said proudly, "all done!"  
  
"All right. Let's go wash our hands and get back to the game."  
  
***  
  
"Feel like taking some ice cream back, Hoss?"  
  
Jake rolled his eyes.  
  
"I'll take that as a yes. So, one sandwich for me, one for Blair… and that's about it."  
  
Jake, riding securely within his father's arms, tugged at the orange cap on his father's head. "pop-peeee!"  
  
"What? You want something?"  
  
"I wanna a samich too!!!"  
  
"Ah. Well, I think we can manage one more, if you insist."  
  
"I do, poppy, I do."  
  
Laughing, Jim got into the line for the ice cream and, once at the counter, ordered three ice cream sandwiches. Carrying Jake and the box of desserts, he headed back to their seats. Half way to the gate, a voice stopped him.  
  
"Detective Ellison?"  
  
He turned and found himself face-to-face with Carl Sabotini.  
  
"Mr. Sabotini," was all he could find to say. He couldn't shake hands, since both were full, so he stood there as the man approached.  
  
"I'm so glad you and Detective Sandburg were able to use the tickets." Blue eyes looked up at the boy in Jim's arms as Sabotini offered his hand to Jake. "You must be Jake, right?"  
  
Smiling, Jake held out his hand and nodded. "good thing I am," he said without a trace of his usual 'meeting new people' shyness.  
  
Laughing, Sabotini shook the small hand as Jim found himself warring with his feelings. The laughter reminded him that he liked the man, but there was still that niggling feeling of unease that was driving him crazy.  
  
As Sabotini let Jake's hand slip away, he said, "I hope you like the seats?"  
  
Before Jake could answer in the affirmative, Jim said, "They were a bit of a surprise."  
  
"I took the liberty of upgrading them. I thought it would be more enjoyable for Jake here. I hope you didn't mind?"  
  
"No, not at all, it was very thoughtful."  
  
"Good, good. Actually, my seat is next to the ones you have this evening. I was held up in a meeting. Are we winning?"  
  
Jake shook his head sadly and answered, "not yet, but daddy and poppy said it's a ruuuule that they have to win tonight 'cause it's my first real game," his head swiveled back, "right, poppy?"  
  
"Right, Jake."  
  
"Well, let's go see how they're doing, all right?" Sabotini suggested.  
  
As Jim followed the man, Jake said, "we've got ice creamy samiches, but you can have half of mine, 'kay?"  
  
Jim simply shook his head in wonder.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, Chief, look who Jake found," Jim said as he handed over the box and set Jake down in his seat.  
  
"daddy, we found," he pointed sideways, "him and ice creamy samichs and my zipper got stuckted in the bathroom!"  
  
"Obviously you got it unstuck, and ice cream sandwiches? Cool, and it's great seeing you, Mr. Sabotini—"  
  
"Carl…"  
  
"Carl," Blair corrected with a chuckle. "I take it these are your seats?"  
  
Nodding, Sabotini sat down in the last aisle seat and slipped his jacket off. Draping it across his lap, he said, "I knew they weren't being used tonight, so I left word at 'will call' to upgrade when you came to pick up the others. Figured Jake there would get a kick out of seeing his first game up close and personal."  
  
"I'm not close enough, if you ask me," Jake suggested while watching Jim unwrap his ice cream.  
  
"Oh, really? And just how close would you like to be?"  
  
"right behind," he tore his eyes from the frozen dessert and pointed at the catcher, "him. I could see reeeeel good from there, daddy."  
  
"Couldn't we all, Hoss. But I'm afraid we'd get in the way of the game if we were sitting behind the catcher."  
  
"I would be reeeeel quiet, daddy, I promuse!"  
  
As Jim handed Jake his ice cream, he gave Blair his famous, 'go ahead, get out of this one' look. Blair rolled his eyes and said, "Well, Jake, it could be dangerous too. A ball goes wild, the catcher jumps up, throws off his mask, hits poppy in the head, stumbles back, trips over me and Jakey, who goes flying through the air as you jump up - then the catcher jumps over you, misses the ball but catches Jakey, throws him down, tries to retrieve the ball, but it's too late - the Mariners win."  
  
Throughout Blair's recitation, Jake, Jim and Sabotini listened with ever-widening eyes. When Blair finally finished, Jake shut his mouth, frowned, and finally jerked Jakey away from Blair and said, "this is a good seat, daddy. a very, very, very good seat."  
  
Nodding happily, Blair said, "I think so too, Hoss. And by the way, Widdoes struck Hemmings out and we have two men on base so we're looking good for a run, especially with Faulkner coming up. He's due."  
  
Munching happily and making a mess, Jake nodded excitedly and turned his attention to the game, leaving Blair to reacquaint himself with Sabotini while Jim quietly fumed.  
  
***  
  
The game moved quickly, too quickly for the men watching Jake watch his first game. As involved in the play as they were, their attention never strayed so far that they missed a single expression, question, reaction or whoop. Jakey was tugged, pulled, twirled, spilled on and shaken every time someone hit home plate. After the seventh inning stretch, whereupon Jake stretched every possible muscle, he somehow ended up in Carl Sabotini's lap, to Blair's happy surprise and Jim's ire.  
  
By the top of the ninth, Jim was feeling a whole hell of a lot like Jekyll and Hyde. He enjoyed Sabotini's company, thought the man was intelligent, witty and fun, yet the Hyde part of him resented the hell out of the way both Blair and Jake seemed to take to him.  
  
The Mariners had been unable to keep the Kits from scoring in the top of the ninth so when the Kits took the field, they were in the lead by one. Widdoes simply had to keep the Mariners from scoring a tying run, let alone the winning run, and the game would be theirs. Jake, fully aware of what was at stake, couldn't seem to keep from bouncing in Sabotini's lap, which delighted the man.  
  
Widdoes took the top of the Mariners batting lineup and struck out the first two men. Jake was practically standing on Sabotini's lap and, as the pitcher wound up for the first pitch to batter number three, Bruce Whitcomb, he somehow got himself onto Blair's, arms wrapped tightly around Blair's neck, gaze focused on the mound.  
  
"BALL … ONE!"  
  
"daddy?"  
  
"Don't worry, he'll strike him out. Whitcomb's been swinging at almost everything all night," Blair reassured Jake.  
  
"He's been hitting everything he's been swinging at too, Chief."  
  
"You just had to mention that, didn't you?"  
  
"Yep," Jim said smugly.  
  
"BALL…TWO!"  
  
"huh-oh," Jake said unhappily.  
  
"Have faith, Hoss," Jim whispered.  
  
Jake clutched Jakey's ear as Widdoes let loose….  
  
"STRIKE ONE!"  
  
"yippeeeee!"  
  
The ball was thrown back to Widdoes. He kicked at the dirt, dug in, wound up, and….  
  
"STRIKE TWO!"  
  
"yahooooo!"  
  
Blair figured his legs were going to be black and blue by the time the Kits pitcher struck Whitcomb out. His neck wouldn't be looking too well either.  
  
Widdoes sent the ball flying again and Whitcomb swung. The sound of the bat hitting the ball caused Jake to clamp both hands over his eyes while everyone else followed the ball as it spun up and up and up… then down… and into the pitcher's glove.  
  
The crowd erupted as Jake opened his eyes and realized that he'd missed it. Tears pooled as he hugged Jakey close and whispered, "I missed it, daddy, I missed it."  
  
Jim took the now sobbing boy into his arms and, as he cupped the back of Jake's head, whispered, "My eyes were closed too, son. I'm always afraid that if I look, I'll jinx the pitch. I'm thinking, thanks to us, Whitcomb hit a pop fly and it landed neatly in Widdoes' glove. We're heroes. Daddy too. I know his eyes were closed."  
  
Jake twisted his head out from under Jim's chin and peeked over at his daddy. "you did, daddy? you and poppy had your eyes closed too?"  
  
"Yep. It's a rule, Hoss. Heck, even Mister Sabotini had his eyes closed."  
  
Jake looked over at Sabotini, who covered his eyes, then smiled.  
  
Jake blinked wet lashes, then looked out over the field where the players were boisterously thumping backs and congratulating themselves on the win. He smiled tremulously.  
  
Carl spotted one of the ushers, waved him down and whispered in his ear. The usher grinned and hurried away.  
  
"poppy, does this mean it's over now? do we havta go home?"  
  
"I'm afraid so, Jake. But we'll sit here for a few minutes and let the crowd thin out a bit."  
  
"'kay," he said quietly, his energy waning now that everything was over.  
  
Jim and Blair looked knowingly at each other, their unspoken thoughts telegraphing themselves nicely. Jake would be asleep before they left the stadium.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Rob Widdoes came down the stairs, a huge grin in place.  
  
"Hey, I understand we have someone here who missed the final out? Did I hear correctly?"  
  
Jake, who'd been close to drifting off, perked up immediately. He sat up in Jim's lap and looked adoringly up at the pitcher even as he raised his hand.  
  
"I missed it 'cause I covered my eyes. me 'n jakey couldn't watch."  
  
Widdoes scooted in and sat down on the small ledge that separated the seats from the roof of the dugout. He held out a baseball. "Well, the way I see it, you missing that pitch means you should at least get to see the winning ball."  
  
Jake's eyes widened as he stared at the white ball. The white ball with black writing all over it. "can i… touch it, please?"  
  
"You can do better than that, this ball is yours. And every member of the Kits team signed it, see?" He pointed to the signatures, then at one in particular. "This is my signature and I added, 'To Jake'. That's your name, isn't it?"  
  
Eyes going wider still, Jake nodded slowly and with a glance at Blair and Jim, a glance that begged for permission to take the ball, he reached out.  
  
Widdoes put the ball in his hand and said, "Don't worry about the ink, it's dry and won't come off."  
  
Jake held the ball close as fingers lovingly stroked it. Finally he looked up and breathed out a hushed and awed, "thank you".  
  
Pushing his cap back on his head, Rob grinned and said, "You're welcome, Jake. And I hope you come see us in person again, real soon. I suspect you were good luck for us tonight. Is that a deal?"  
  
Jake looked at Blair, then at Jim. "daddy? poppy? can we?"  
  
"We'll definitely come again before the season's over, Jake."  
  
"promuse, daddy?"  
  
"Promise," Blair said solemnly.  
  
Widdoes held out his hand and said, "Give me five?"  
  
Jake sat forward, handed Jakey to Blair, and slapped the outstretched palm.  
  
"All right, Jake! Make sure you let me know the next time you're here and we'll see if we can't get you down with us for a few minutes, okay?"  
  
"oooo-kay!"  
  
***  
  
Jake was sound asleep in Jim's arms, cheek pillowed against Jim's shoulder, his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Jakey was tucked securely in Jim's back pocket and the newly acquired baseball in Blair's jacket pocket. The two men stood on the edge of the entranceway as they said their good-byes to Carl Sabotini. Blair held out his hand and, as they shook, said, "Thank you again for the upgrade, and the appearance of Rob Widdoes. I don't think Jake will ever forget tonight."  
  
"He was so disappointed about missing that last pitch, and I know Rob's dad. We go way back, so I knew he'd be happy to help. Just hoped it would cheer Jake up, that's all."  
  
"It was a great thing to do," Jim added honestly.  
  
Blair was standing close to Sabotini, his shoulder brushing the older man's, and Jim felt the now familiar stab of whatever. He watched the two men, trying to puzzle out his feelings, but then he noticed the strange look in Sabotini's eyes as he smiled at Blair. Curiosity replaced whatever unease he was feeling, but before he could identify what he was seeing, the look was gone.  
  
"You know, the Kits' next home game is in two weeks and it's an afternoon game. Maybe—"  
  
Sabotini got no further as Jim said, "We'll be in California in two weeks, on vacation."  
  
"Ah, well then, we'll hope for something upon your return. And California? Northern or Southern?"  
  
"Southern. We're going the Disneyland route, with maybe a little Knott's Berry Farm and San Diego thrown in," Blair offered with a grin.  
  
"And beach, Chief. Don't forget the beach and surfing."  
  
"I wouldn't dare."  
  
"Who's the surfer? Both or?"  
  
"Jim is. Although I'm getting a handle on it."  
  
"Yep, he's pretty good at finding the board and getting a handle on it when he wipes out."  
  
"You're a riot, Jim. Just a riot."  
  
Sabotini laughed softly, then reached out to shake Jim's hand. "I'd better let you two go so that you can get Jake into bed, but I do want to thank you again for how you handled the investigation into my wife's murder. I'm well aware that I was not only a suspect, but that my reputation is a bit … cloudy. Yet somehow," he ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm not saying this well. I… expected to be treated far differently than I was, and for that, I'm grateful."  
  
Blair glanced over at Jim, who shrugged helplessly. Blair turned back to Sabotini and said, "Well, thank you."  
  
"I hope to see you all again on your return. Have a good time and watch out for the traffic. They drive like maniacs down there."  
  
"We'll be careful, Mr. Sabotini, and thank you again for tonight," Jim said as he started to move away.  
  
Blair nodded in agreement and added, "We look forward to seeing you again… Carl. And I'm certain Jake feels the same. Good night."  
  
Carl placed his arm on Blair's shoulder and said, "Good night… Blair. Stay… safe."  
  
Jim caught a glimmer of that strange look in Sabotini's eyes, but once again it was gone before Jim could pin it down. A black Lincoln Towncar pulled up and a man in a black suit got out.  
  
"Sir? Are you ready?"  
  
"I am, thank you, George." He grinned and moved over to the now open back door. "Say good-bye to Jake for me."  
  
Jim managed a wave even as he tugged possessively at Blair's jacket, neither an easy feat with an armful of sleeping child. Hyde was definitely winning at the moment.  
  
***  
  
Blair pulled the blanket up to Jake's chin and bent down to drop a kiss on the cool cheek. During the drive home, the transfer into the house and the changing into pajamas, Jake hadn't so much as moved. Blair smiled at the baseball he'd placed on the nightstand, knowing full well that it would be the first thing Jake would look for in the morning. It had been an almost perfect evening.  
  
An almost perfect evening Blair figured it was time to ruin.  
  
He turned off the light and headed into the living room and his partner.  
  
Jim was stretched out on the couch watching the news when Blair walked in and sat down in the chair.  
  
"He still out?" Jim asked without taking his eyes from the screen.  
  
"Yep," Blair said as he swung one leg over the chair arm.  
  
Jim nodded and Blair settled back to wait. When Bob Lopez came on to do the weather, Blair finally said, "We need to talk."  
  
Jim glanced away from the screen, a puzzled frown on his face. "What?"  
  
"You did it again, Jim. The first time I let it wash, figured it was just a slip, but tonight, tonight it was deliberate. So … we need to talk about it."  
  
If Blair's voice and demeanor hadn't so clearly signaled his concern, Jim would have laughed at the convoluted sentence, but the look on Blair's face told him this was very serious. He picked the remote up from his chest, clicked off the set and sat up. "All right, what's wrong?"  
  
Suddenly Blair smiled. "Okay, that was different. I expected… I don't know, reluctance, impatience, but certainly not that… helpful… tone. We're obviously still in the honeymoon stage, man."  
  
Blair's grin was infectious and, in spite of the fact that he knew something difficult was coming, Jim grinned in response. "Chief, I don't intend for the honeymoon to ever end."  
  
The grin faded as Blair said gently, "Sweet words from a man who has difficulty telling folks that Jake is… ours. I know we're not exactly out of the closet, but I'm thinking that the door is wide open. And I know we haven't really talked about how to explain things – how to explain Jake – but I did expect that when one of us claims him as our son, we'd claim him for both of us, you know?"  
  
"Okay, now I'm lost. You're going to have to be more explicit, Sandburg."  
  
"Ah, now you sound like the Jim Ellison I know and love. When confused, I'm Sandburg."  
  
"Blair?" Jim made a point of using Blair's first name.  
  
"Right. Tonight. Arthur Dell. You kept me from telling him that Jake was our son, remember? You deliberately interrupted me before I could say it. The first time it happened was before the Fourth of July. We were at the fireworks stand and you introduced Jake as your son but me… as your partner, Detective Sandburg. You made it pretty clear that was the only kind of partner I was." He waited a moment, allowing his words to sink in, then asked, "So what's up? I know it isn't shame, so what? Fear?"  
  
Jim was flummoxed. It wasn't true, so where the hell had Blair come up with this? There was no way he'd… absolutely never. They were a family, and while not out-out, it wasn't exactly a secret anymore that he and Blair lived together and that they were raising a son. Hell, it had been almost a fucking year already.  
  
"Sandburg, you're crazy, but I say that with love. I would never… and just the other day, at the store, we were hit on by some redhead and when she asked Jake about his mother, well, I quickly stepped in, knowing full well he'd point to me, for reasons only he understands, and I immediately said that Jake's other father was at home with a cold. So there."  
  
"Did you know this woman?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
Blair sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "There ya go."  
  
"Excuse me? There what goes?"  
  
"Just that you proved my point. You didn't know that woman, so you didn't care that she knew Jake had two fathers. But the kid at the fireworks stand was the son of an old police buddy, and of course, Arthur Dell… no way you'd want him to know about us, to know… what, that you're gay?"  
  
Jim couldn't remain seated. Not with… no way. He rose quickly and started pacing. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Chief. The entire squad knows, half the CPD knows, and the other half suspect and most don't give a flying leap. Why the hell—"  
  
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking," Blair said quietly.  
  
"It's been almost a year, the best year of my life, and you think I'd deny you and Jake?"  
  
"Never Jake. Just… us as his parents, so… I'm guessing that means," his eyes suddenly darkened with sadness, "really… that it's me, us, the two of us as a couple."  
  
Jim stopped in front of the chair and looked down at his partner. "Blair, damn it, I love you, I love us. You're the best thing that ever… oh, come on, you know this, you know how I feel about you. If it seemed that I… if I failed to make it clear to Dell or anyone else, that Jake is ours, that we're his parents, it was probably nothing. Meaningless. Not even a slip of the tongue. Just… just… nothing. You need to believe me, Blair."  
  
A small smile and a nod, then Blair was up, his arms around Jim's waist. "Sure, Jim. No problemo. We'll just chalk it up to the newness and strangeness of it all. Hell, we have a vacation to finish planning."  
  
Jim wrapped his arms around Blair and held tight. He knew Blair was wrong. He knew it.  
  
***  
  
For the first time in years, Blair found the silence of being the only one awake – oppressive. Next to him, Jim slept soundly, one arm across Blair's chest. He watched the rise and fall of Jim's arm and wondered if the sentinel in Jim had sensed Blair's … failings. It wouldn't be the first time that Jim's abilities had been ahead of Jim.  
  
He turned his head restlessly on the pillow and stared out the bedroom window. The summer night was clear, the moon bright, and dawn still a couple of hours away.  
  
He wasn't stupid, he knew that Jim loved him, knew that he had qualities to be loved. He even knew that he made Jim happy, satisfied him in many ways, if not all. So what the hell was wrong? Okay, he knew he'd fail someday as a father, but Jim would be there. Where Blair would be lacking, there would be Jim. Jake would never… suffer, right? And yet, weren't Jim and Blair both proof that a child really needed two parents? No, that was ridiculous. There was no better man than Jim, in spite of his childhood.  
  
In spite of.  
  
Jake shouldn't have to deal with 'in spite of''. He deserved it all.  
  
He wasn't used to doubts. That was incorrect. He was most definitely used to them, but with quick thinking and fast talking, he'd never allowed them to stop him from doing or being or completing.  
  
Blair rubbed Jim's arm lightly and, as he continued to stare out the window at the velvet darkness beyond, promised Jim, himself, and Jake, that he'd do whatever it took to be the man they needed.  
  
***  
  
Jim rolled over, reached out for Blair – and came up empty. He opened his eyes, squinted as the sunlight hit sensitive orbs, let his sight adjust, then sat up. He checked the bedside clock and gave a low whistle. It was after eleven. Since when did he sleep in like this? And how had Blair stopped Jake's usual early morning attack? He focused on the apartment and heard his two men in the kitchen….  
  
 _"Looks good, Hoss. I do believe you're the best biscuit maker in the Pacific Northwest."  
  
"poppy likes biscuits, daddy?"  
  
"Poppy loves biscuits, especially with sausage gravy, but it's been awhile since I… since he's had any."  
  
"will I like it?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Okay, the dough is ready, you've rolled it out perfectly. Now take the glass like I showed you… yeah, just like that, twist just enough… perfect. You've just created your first biscuit, Jake."  
  
"ooh, this is fun. how many do I make?"  
  
"You should be able to get six biscuits out of the dough… yep, put it on the cookie sheet and make another one. You're doing great."  
  
"how's the gravy?"  
  
"Simmering and ready."_  
  
Jim found himself frowning when he should be smiling. Blair's words and expressions from last night sat on his shoulder like a boulder, which was why he found it almost ludicrous that his husband and soul mate was in the kitchen making biscuits and gravy for him. Jim closed his eyes and swiped a hand over his face. Blair thought that he was having difficulty admitting to certain people the fact that they were Jake's parents. Together. Jim and Blair. Not Jim alone; but Jim and Blair. And yet – he was in the kitchen, making biscuits and gravy for him.  
  
Jim climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. After relieving himself, he turned on the shower, dumped his shorts in the hamper and climbed in. Pulling the shower curtain across the rod, he let the hot water wake him up – in more ways than one.  
  
After all these years as partners, Jim knew Blair Sandburg. For all their talk about how much Blair knew Jim, the fact was that he knew Blair just as deeply. Knew the hidden insecurities, the fear of failure that dogged every step, and understood the deepest fear Blair possessed; the fear of failing him. He also knew that once Jake had entered the picture, the boy had simply been added to Blair's list of possible failures. He feared failing Jake - failing as a father.  
  
Yet...he was making Jim biscuits and gravy.  
  
Jim braced his hands on either side of the shower head and tucked his chin into his chest.  
  
What the hell was he afraid of? So what if the son of an old friend knew that he and Blair were a couple and Jake was their son? So what if Arthur Dell knew. So what….  
  
So.  
  
Blair was right.  
  
Damn it, Blair was right.  
  
And now, somehow, in a manner known only within the weird confines of Sandburg's brain, Blair had decided he was to blame. Which was why Jim was about to indulge in biscuits and sausage gravy.  
  
Sandburg was so transparent. To everyone but himself.  
  
Jim turned off the shower, got out, toweled off, spent the required minutes shaving and brushing his teeth before putting on jeans and tee shirt. Barefoot, he headed into the kitchen and his "I'll fix this, or my name isn't Blair Sandburg" breakfast.  
  
As he pushed at the swinging door, he said cheerfully, "Do I smell biscuits and gravy?"  
  
***  
  
"So where's the baseball?"  
  
"In his pocket. It was tough getting him to put it down this morning and help with breakfast, but as long as it was close, he gave in and set it down. Tonight, I expect he'll sleep with it."  
  
Jim grinned. "Poor Jakey's about to be thrown over for a baseball."  
  
Blair dried the last plate and handed it to Jim, who put it in the cupboard. "I'm betting he'll find a way to give equal time to both."  
  
"You're probably right." Jim poured them each another cup of coffee and indicated that they should sit at the kitchen table.  
  
They slid in and spent a few moments sipping and thinking. The house was quiet, thanks to an invitation by Corky's mother shortly after breakfast. Seemed Corky had a new swing set and he just had to play on it with Jake.  
  
As the silence lengthened, Jim decided now was as good a time as any to clear the air.  
  
"I've been thinking," he finally said. "Thinking that maybe you were right last night. Only problem is, I'm not sure…about why."  
  
Blair put his mug down and stared at his partner. "Are you kidding?"  
  
"No. Does this," he pointed at his face, "look like I'm kidding?"  
  
The grin he received for his question set his heart racing, but now wasn't the time for racing hearts and thoughts of a buck-naked Blair in bed.  
  
"No, your expression doesn't look like you're kidding, but you've fooled me before," Blair said, his grin widening.  
  
"I'm serious here, now cut it out. I… did everything you said, and I don't know why. No, I do know why, I just don't know…why."  
  
"Huh-uh."  
  
"I mean, it's probably a fear thing, a leftover William Ellison thing, which is odd because he accepts us, loves you, loves Jake...."  
  
"But would he have, say, five years ago? Ten?"  
  
"No, and I'm still not sure what changed for him, but I'm grateful. So why am I channeling the man he was? Why are his old fears popping to the surface now?"  
  
"I don't know, Jim. Maybe some kind of protection?"  
  
If it had been anyone else, Jim would have assumed the question referred to protection for him, but since it came from "Mister Insecurity", he could pretty much assume it meant something else entirely. He scooted closer until their shoulders were touching, and said, "Maybe. But no, I think it's something like… you know, a masculine thing. A leftover masculine thing."  
  
"A leftover masculine thing?" Blair said incredulously.  
  
"Yeah, you know, a real man doesn't…with another man. That kind of leftover masculine thing."  
  
"You've been with men before. Hell, you're more gay than anything else."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, but when you settle down, when you're a family, and your kid calls you mommy, and you're like, married to this macho guy with a chest full of hair, well, it becomes this masculine thing, you know?"  
  
"Ah. So maybe I should put the earrings back in?"  
  
"That would help. Maybe shave your chest? Start wearing my flowered apron?"  
  
"To work? I don't think so. Criminals might have difficulty taking me seriously."  
  
"Good point. Skip the apron. But maybe let me call _you_ 'the little woman' sometimes?"  
  
"I suppose you could. After all, I do have enough masculinity for twelve men, and I _am_ in touch with my feminine side."  
  
Jim slid his hand over Blair's. "I'm so sorry, Blair. If I could go back and undo—"  
  
"Ssh, it's okay, Jim."  
  
"No, it's not. It will be, but it's not yet. I never meant to hurt you or … disclaim you. I guess I just have a few more issues than I thought. But you need to understand… this isn't really about you, it's not even really disclaiming you so much as not owning up to a part of myself, Blair. A part that I'd have to guess I'm still not willing to show off with rainbow ribbons and 'proud to be gay' stickers. That probably makes me a terrible person, but—"  
  
"No, it doesn't, Jim. It makes you human. Just… human." He got up and headed over to the phone.  
  
"Uhm, Chief?"  
  
"Just need to make a quick phone call canceling an ad I placed. It's a huge thing, full page, announcing to all of Washington that Jim Ellison is gay. It's real pretty though, full of rainbow colors, flowered aprons and this nifty picture of you at the stove, stirring a big pot of sauce."

 

 

 

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/alysbasement/pic/00002ak8/)

  
  
Jim gave a little shake of his head and said, "I'm actually married to you. For…like, ever. Ever is going to be a very long time."  
  
Smiling, Blair turned back and dropped down next to Jim. "Yes, thank God, it is. Want to take advantage of our solitary married state?"  
  
"Describe 'take advantage'."  
  
"Well," Blair said, as he placed his hand over Jim's bulging crotch, "it starts something like this…."  
  
***  
  
Jake sat on the lawn, Corky opposite. Both had their elbows on their knees, hands bracing their heads. Nestled in the bright green blades of grass sat a white ball with black writing all over it. Both boys stared fixedly at it. Finally Corky spoke.  
  
"an he gave it to you hisself?"  
  
"he did. and signed it speshul for me too. my name is on it – right there." A small dirt-smudged finger pointed at the word, "Jake".  
  
"an this is the ball rob caught?"  
  
"that's right. it musta been going a zillion miles an hour. nobody but my poppy coulda even seen it but rob caught it for the out an all 'cuz I was there!"  
  
"so if I get my daddy to take me, the kits will win again?"  
  
"you sure you never been? ab-so-lute-leeeee sure?"  
  
"absolutely, positively sure."  
  
"then yup, the kits will win. it's a ruuuuule. my daddy says so."  
  
Corky stared at the bright shining ball and said breathlessly, "wow."  
  
***  
  
Naomi climbed out of the cab and, while the driver pulled out her luggage, fished in her purse for her wallet. When he set the bags on the curb, she handed over two twenties and said, "Keep the change and I know your wife will enjoy the scent. It's perfect for finding peace after a hectic day with children."  
  
"Thank you, Naomi, it sounds like just what she needs. Five kids, and me gone twelve and fourteen hour days, she needs all the help she can get."  
  
Naomi smiled as the cabbie got back in and waved as he drove off, then she picked up her three bags; one shoulder bag and two suitcases on wheels, and headed into the Anjasmayo. She supposed it was silly, not calling ahead and telling them that she'd been successful in catching an even earlier flight than she'd originally mentioned, but she really wanted to surprise them and then give them the good news.  
  
As she walked into the courtyard, she was surprised at how quiet it was. No open doors, no chattering, and no one getting a barbecue ready for summer grilling. There was also the distinct absence of Jake. She glanced quickly over at her son's door, and again was surprised to find it closed. She knew from weather reports that Cascade had experienced a brief spate of rain and cold weather, but today was beautiful and a balmy seventy-six. She would have bet the front door would be open and Jake outside playing.  
  
She put the bags down and side-stepped to her right… yep, both cars were in the back, so Jim and Blair were home. Naomi picked up her luggage again, walked up the stoop and rang the bell. Not that she didn't have a key, but something told her not to use it.  
  
***  
  
Jim played with the small beads of sweat rapturously caught up in damp chest hair. "I've changed my mind. Don't shave this."  
  
"Had no intention of it," Blair said, voice rich with a sated drowsiness.  
  
"Good, good. But the idea of putting the earrings back in? That I like. It's… It was always you, Chief."  
  
Blair reached up and fingered Jim's left ear. "I'll put mine back if you do."  
  
"You've got a deal. I'll wear it for our vacation."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Nope, but... Shit, your mom's here."  
  
Blair shot up. "You're kidding?"  
  
"Nope. She's about to—"  
  
His words were interrupted by the ringing of the door bell.  
  
"Well, I'll be damned," Blair said.  
  
***  
  
"So I thought I'd come over and give you the good news. How was I to know I'd interrupt something?"  
  
"Mom, you didn't interrupt—"  
  
"Yeah, we were finished," Jim cut in with a smirk.  
  
Laughing, Naomi sat on the couch and curled her legs underneath her. "Hey, I know what it's like to have a few minutes of child-free time. You've got to make the most of it."  
  
Because she was reaching into her purse, she missed the slight frown on Blair's face.  
  
"I just had to share this with you two. Now I know you've got your vacation somewhat planned, hotel reservations made at Disneyland and all, but well, something fell into my lap, so to speak, and I think it's the answer for you."  
  
Taking their seats, Jim asked, "Answer for what?"  
  
"Well, I know you wanted to do the whole beach scene, then see Disneyland, and a few other fun things, and well, I met an old friend of mine, and see, he has—"  
  
"He, mom?"  
  
"Not that kind of 'he', Sweetie. An old friend, as in when he was a couple. Of course, he's not now - a couple, I mean. They're divorced, but still, and where was I? Oh, yes. The mobile home on the beach."  
  
Jim and Blair looked at each other, then back at Naomi.  
  
"It's beautiful, Jim. Just what you're looking for, literally on the beach. It's a lovely spot called El Moro Cove and it's just as you enter Laguna Beach. It's heaven on Earth and Sammy would love you and Blair to stay there. You've even got a built in baby-sitter by the name of Rosie should you decide to take in the Laguna nightlife. She lives next door, but don't worry, Jim, Sammy's place is the last one, and at a slight angle so you won't even know you have neighbors, except of course, it's a very tight knit group. They have barbecues and beach picnics and the body surfing is terrific, but just up PCH is the best surfing spot in Southern California—"  
  
"Do you want to tell her to breathe, Chief, or shall I?"  
  
"The honor's yours, man. No way am I going to try to interrupt."  
  
"…thousand steps beach and Brooks Street surfing spot—"  
  
"Uhm, what was that, Naomi?" Jim inquired, his ears almost perking up at the words 'surfing spot'.  
  
"I was just saying that you're near the best surfing in Orange County and arguably the best surfing in Southern California. You're just minutes – and that's walking minutes – away, Jim. And yet, you've also got calm beaches for Jake, and lots of kids for him to play with, and you're close, only thirty minutes from Disneyland and forty from Knotts, and only an hour and a half from San Diego, and yet, you can jump on the freeway and you're in Los Angeles in an hour or so, which turns out to be very good because," she rooted around in her purse and pulled out an envelope, which she waved in the air, "I bought these, thanks to a good friend who is now the manager of the Pantages Theater in Los Angeles. Three front row tickets to see The Lion King, and Blair, honey, you remember Kurt? Anyway, he now runs the newly refurbished Roosevelt Hotel, and he's booked you into one of the poolside cabanas, so you can see The Lion King, spend the night, and see Los Angeles the next day, maybe take Jake to the Farmer's Market… you remember how you loved it, right Blair? And of course, there are a few rather famous surfing spots in LA, Jim, so you could even spend two or three days there before heading—"  
  
Seeing that Jim was totally incapable of stopping the juggernaut that was his mother, Blair finally said - rather loudly, "Time out, Mom!"  
  
"… and… wha'?"  
  
"Mom, you're turning blue."  
  
"I'm what?" Naomi's hands flew to her face as she said, "What are you talking about? I'm not... Oh, I get it."  
  
"Now I know where your son inherited the fine art of speaking while not breathing. He learned his non-stop talking skill at the feet of the master - or in this case - mistress. Bravo."  
  
She blushed and ducked her head, then sheepishly handed over the envelope. "Here, honey. I hope you…I mean, if I've overstepped my bounds—"  
  
"I don't know, has she, Jim?" Blair asked with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
"Well, let me see… she got us a place to stay on the beach, got us a babysitter, tickets to The Lion King, reservations at the Roosevelt… nope, no bounds overstepped that I can see. Hey, Mom, any chance you got us a car too?"  
  
Cheeks tinged pink, Naomi nodded. "Now that you mention it, yes. A Tahoe. It's Sammy's and while he's gone, it's all yours. All you have to do is get a car seat for Jake."  
  
"What," Jim asked incredulously, "you couldn't get us one of those? Woman, you're slipping."  
  
There was a moment of dead silence – followed by uproarious laughter.  
  
***  
  
Bobbie had a four year old attached to each hand, but somehow didn't mind. He gazed fondly down at his brother, Corky, who was skipping happily along, then over at Jake, who was walking more sedately. He was still impressed by the baseball Jake had proudly shown him no less than five times in the last two hours. Made the whole "Bobbie, you just need to watch them, all right? I have two conference calls" afternoon worth it. Of course, it had been an all right afternoon anyway since babysitting Corky and Jake wasn't nearly as bad as one would think. In fact, the two of them were kind of fun to watch. Truth be told, he loved listening to them chatter. Their high, light voices were kind of…sweet, not that he'd ever admit it to a living soul.  
  
Maybe having kids someday would be all right. Maybe.  
  
They entered the courtyard of the Anjasmayo and Bobbie led them over to Jake's front stoop. He was about to open the screen when the door was opened by Jake's father, Detective Ellison.  
  
"Hi, sir. I've brought Jake home."  
  
"Hey, Bobbie, thanks."  
  
Jim stepped aside and Jake, after a quick, 'so long, cork,' jumped inside, patted his pocket, and said, "got my ball, poppy, and corky loved it. I even let him touch it, poppy! bobbie too, and bobbie took real good care of us, an he even looked both ways 'fore taking us acrossed, poppy."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it, Jake," Jim said with a grin.  
  
Corky waved as Bobbie lifted him into his arms, and said, "bye, jakey, see you tomorrow."  
  
"bye, cork."  
  
"Thanks again, Bobbie," Jim said as the older boy stepped down.  
  
"No problem, Detective Ellison. Bye, Jake."  
  
The two watched as Bobbie and Corky left, and Jim waited, Jake at his side, until he was certain Bobbie and Corky were safely on the other side of the street. Once satisfied, he looked down at his son and said, "Guess who's here, Hoss?"  
  
Face shining with expectation, Jake said, "who, poppy, who?"  
  
"Your Nomi. She came home early and she's—"  
  
He got no further as Jake turned, spotted his grandmother and, with arms raised high, raced to where she was sitting on the couch next to Blair. He made a flying leap and, like the pro she was, Naomi caught him. Laughing delightedly, she accepted the hail of wet kisses that Jake immediately bestowed on her.  
  
Arms holding him tightly, she managed to glance over at her son and, with a beautiful smile on her face, said, "This makes going away worth it."  
  
***  
  
Blair poured the lemonade into Jake's dinosaur cup and set the pitcher down. He slid into the booth and grabbed a piece of one of the apples Jim had sliced up earlier. As he chewed, he listened to Jim trade off information-sharing with Naomi, and watched Jake's eyes grow wider with each new nugget of fun being promised for his first vacation.  
  
"lion king, nomi? I get to see simba – live?"  
  
"Yes, you do, Jake. On stage and very up close. You're going to love it, honey."  
  
Jake clapped his hands and was so excited, he almost fell off his phone book. Jim caught him, settled him back down, and said to Blair, "We need a new booster seat, one with a seatbelt."  
  
"pop-peeee!"  
  
"Don't you think it's time to tell Naomi about your baseball and very first 'live' game?" Blair suggested with a grin.  
  
That was all it took for Jake to pull the baseball out of his pocket, hold it high in the air, then zoom in toward Naomi's face. "lookee, my nomi, lookee! he signed it jus' for me, an we sat on top of them, an I helped win the game 'cuz it was my first time, so he brought the winning ball to me, my nomi, and they all signed it an I ate a 'foxy tail', my nomi! an it wasn't furry at all! an…."  
  
Naomi listened, a loopy grin on her face, happy to be home, and happy to be with her family.  
  
***  
  
"We need to hit the stores."  
  
Jim folded back the bedspread and blanket, fluffed up his pillow, and said, "We've been saying that for awhile, Chief."  
  
"Yeah, and tomorrow we begin."  
  
Jim, feeling pretty good, jumped onto the bed, patted the mattress, and said, "I agree, get over here and we'll begin."  
  
"Wow, that was an almost brilliant segue, man. And being the all-American horny guy that I am, I'm going to segue right along with you." With that, he dove for the bed, Jim grabbed him mid-flight, and together, they rolled over, laughing and wrestling like boys… only the wrestling ended in a deep and satisfying kiss… followed by an even more satisfying activity.  
  
***  
  
The two weeks leading up to the Ellison-Sandburg-Porter vacation were surprisingly quiet. They took Jake shopping for Southern California clothing, which included several pairs of colorful shorts, jeans, and tank tops. Jake also picked out a couple of pairs of plastic sandals, one in yellow, and one pair in red. He was deliriously happy when his fathers took him shopping for his very own luggage. He chose a Spiderman backpack, but the real coup was the small suitcase – proclaiming Jake a Cascade Kits fan – on two wheels with an adjustable handle. He wanted to go home and immediately pack, and was crestfallen when told by Blair that they weren't scheduled to leave for California for another week.  
  
On the Friday before they were set to depart, Blair found himself watching the clock as he sat at his desk. He had the silly notion that maybe cutting the phone lines might ensure that nothing interrupted his countdown to five. For once, the phones, the criminals, and Cascade, worked together to make sure that Jim and Blair were able to close up shop, navigate their way through the hail of, "Have fun, guys", "Mickey Mouse is a drug dealer", and "Tell Jake good-bye for us" and actually make their escape.  
  
Once in the truck, both men let out twin sighs of relief. As Jim turned the key, he said, "We're cops, Chief, and Cascade is our tribe, but man, I've been holding my breath for the last five hours, hoping that nothing came up that would keep us from leaving on time."  
  
"I'm so with you on that. I've been waiting for a call to come in telling us that the entire city was being held hostage and that the terrorists would only deal with the detective team of Sandburg and Ellison."  
  
"That would be Ellison and Sandburg… Sandburg. Senior officer, I get top billing."  
  
"Right, sorry. Age before beauty and all that."  
  
"The important thing is that we're free, Sandburg. Free, and with three weeks of sunny California ahead of us."  
  
"Amen, man."  
  
Conclusion of Cold Case, Story #1 of Full Circle Trilogy


End file.
